


Point of Information

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adopted Loki, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - High School, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Attachment Issues, Birthday Party, Blow Jobs in a Car, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Bullying, Cancer, Car Accidents, Cassie and Scott are also cousins, Christmas, Coming Out, Darcy and Jane are adopted by Erik, Deaf Clint Barton, Debate Club, Debate Team, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Diabetic Natasha, Drinking, Dyslexic Thor, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fist Fights, Friendship, Gen, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Odin's A+ Parenting, Peggy and Sharon are cousins, Possibly Unrequited Love, Protective Jane Foster, Protective Sam Wilson, Slow Burn, Smoking, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Underage Drinking, Valentine's Day, money isn't everything, not all ships are end game, not tagging all of the friendships because there are A LOT, teachers are better parents than actual parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debate Club / Team AU.</p><p>It’s the start of the school year at Northview High School, and it’s compulsory that all upper years must take at least one extracurricular activity. Surprisingly, this year, there is an overwhelming amount of students willing to join the newly set up debate team. Whether it’s out of curiosity, out of genuine interest, or lack of other options, one thing can be said: Nobody actually gives a damn about debating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! thank you so much for being interested about this fic! This is basically an MCU debate club / team AU that was inspired by my own one-off debate club that was at our school. i learned a lot about debating, and was surprised to find that it's not actually that complicated, but i'll just warn you that the actual debate club doesn't occur until chapter four, just because i wanted to introduce and establish the characters and the universe.
> 
> there are sixteen characters who are actually in the debate team, and the fic will be told from their POVs. i'll list them down in the notes below, just because i don't want the beginning notes to be too long. i'll always put anything potentially triggering in the beginning notes, though, and don't be afraid to let me know if you want something tagged.
> 
>  
> 
> _**CHAPTER WARNINGS:** mentions of drinking, smoking and car accidents._
> 
>  
> 
> thank you again for reading and enjoy! :D

   “There’s no way that I’m going to that god damn art club.” Natasha threw the paper across the table in exasperation. It lightly slid across the floor, landing perfectly at Clint’s foot.

   “I didn’t say you had to go to art club.” He said in between bites of his chicken sandwich, “But you have to pick _something_.”

   Natasha rolled her eyes at her friend, and dug into her own pasta pot. “It’s stupid,” she muttered, “that all lower and upper years have to take some sort of extracurricular activity. From _that_ list.” She pointed her fork at the list that Clint was now examining. “There’s nothing interesting on there.”

   “Shame that there isn’t even an archery club.” Clint said from behind the paper. They were currently situated in their usual spot of the very back corner of their school library, surrounded by all the language books and dictionaries. It was a perfect spot for them, since they’d decided long ago that it was a waste of time eating in the canteen. Surrounded by everyone staring and judging them, they’d finally had enough in their third year, and would hop around from room to room to eat their lunch.

   “What about you, Thor?”

   Thor looked up from the Geography homework that he was working intently on, pulling out an earbud. “I have not looked at the list yet.” He replied, “But based on your reactions, it doesn’t look too good.”

   “There’s barely any choice, that’s what.”

   “At least you could join one of the language clubs, Tasha. And Thor, you could easily offer to help in the primary school. There’s nothing here for m-”

   “I’m sick of languages.” Natasha groaned. “I already do Spanish, French, German and English Language. You know full well that Thor and I could’ve joined athletics, but ever since this,” she gestured towards her crutches and bandaged foot, “I clearly can’t.”

   Clint only shrugged in response, putting the list in the middle of the three of them. He stuffed his lunch box in his bag, and pulled out a worn out looking History book.

   Without looking up from his homework, Thor pushed over his own packet of salt and vinegar crisps to Clint with the tip of his pen. Clint pretended not to notice for a minute, but he took some anyway. Thor and Natasha were well aware that the chicken sandwich that Natasha had brought for him was most likely the only decent meal that Clint would have all day.

   “Working.” Clint mumbled. That was his way of telling them that he was about to turn his hearing aid off to focus. If this was five years ago, Natasha would’ve been somewhat hurt, but not anymore. That’s what brought the three of them together. Clint was the deaf kid, Thor had ADHD and dyslexia, Natasha had diabetes. Always the “weird” kids who needed “special attention and treatments.” It’s no wonder that the three of them had been best friends since first year.

   Once Natasha had finished her own lunch, she grabbed the list and gave it one last look.

   Not that it would be any use.

   She’d been looking at that thing all morning, and besides athletics, there wasn’t anything that she felt confident enough to do. She’d only been in sixth year for three weeks, and she was already obliged to join some dumb extracurricular activity that she didn’t even want to join in the first place.

   Thor had taken out both of his earbuds, folding his homework and placing it into his bag.

   “I won’t join athletics.” He said plainly.

   “Don’t be dumb. You’re allowed to join athletics. You don’t have to go with me.” Thor didn’t say anything.

   “I don’t want you to be lonely.” Bless him. Thor was always incredibly blunt and innocent, yet Natasha had always appreciated him for it.

   “Well, I’m not joining art.”

   “Of course not.”

   “Or choir.”

   “Definitely not.”

   “No languages.”

   Thor visibly shuddered.

   “I barely understand English. I don’t need another language to bother me.”

   Natasha chuckled.

   “I can’t deal with computers.”

   Thor didn’t respond. Natasha continued looking at the list. There wasn’t anything that caught her attention. Nothing that made her consider.

   “How about…” Thor put his hand out, and Natasha handed him the list. He whipped out a yellow highlighter and circled something on the sheet. He handed the paper back to her, his expression blank.

   “Oh come on, Thor.” Natasha shook her head. Thor still didn’t say anything.

   “It doesn’t strike your taste?”

   “If it did, I would’ve said something about it.” She thought for a moment. It wasn’t athletics, or a language. It was better that choir and computing. The only problem is, she didn’t really have an idea what she _should_ think of it.

   She stared at the black writing covered in Thor’s striking highlighter.

   Debate Club.

 

-

 

   “You do it.” Rhodey cocked his head to one side, “Since you’re the one who thought that it would be a great idea to let him sleep in the car.”

   “I didn’t say that it would be a great idea.” Pepper took a sip of her coffee. “You saw what he was like this morning. He needed a couple of minute extra sleep.”

   “Yeah, well, for Tony, a couple of minutes can easily turn into a couple of hours.” Rhodey muttered as he glanced over to his friend. Since they started Northview, Tony had always personally offered his chauffeur to pick up Pepper and Rhodey every morning before school, and take them home if he ever needed it. Mostly because Tony was generally a nice guy when you got past his sarcasm and egotistical nature. And mostly because Tony hated being in cars alone. Even though he trusted his chauffeur – Ray – with his life, it still made Tony uncomfortable, and Pepper and Rhodey knew that.

   “How much did he drink last night?” Pepper whispered, as if they weren’t already in a private area. They usually gathered in the corner of the common room, furthest from the door and any other areas in the room. Tony had handpicked it himself, and nobody had dared to cross it.

   Rhodey shrugged.

  “He had a glass the night before, but that’s all I know.”

   Pepper raised an eyebrow.

   “ _Only_ a glass?” Pepper and Rhodey both knew that Tony rarely ever drank a single glass. Pepper herself knew that Tony’s drinking had gotten especially bad after the incident with Obadiah over the summer.

   Rhodey shrugged again.

   “He said he’d take it easy.” Rhodey sighed. “I believe him.”

   Pepper didn’t question anymore.

   “And the cigarettes?” She whispered again. She tried to look casually as she said it, but that didn’t make it any better. Tony didn’t smoke often, but when he did, he could go through an entire packet. It was made even worse since Tony already had issues with his heart since he was a kid, yet he didn’t seem to care that much. He’d always shrug it off and assure them that he was being careful, despite the fact that he was anything but.

   “I checked. He hasn’t got any on him. Or in his bag.”

   Pepper let out a small sigh of relief.

   “He hasn’t smoked in two weeks?”

   “I’m sure of it.” Rhodey said.

   They sat in silence; the rest of the common room was filled with the other upper years. None of whom Pepper truly considered friends. Tony and Rhodey were the closest friends that she’d ever had. The three of them had grown up together, ever since Pepper’s mother and Rhodey’s father had been introduced to Tony’s father in alliance with Stark Industries. Tony and Rhodey were rich as it is. Pepper wasn’t exactly as well-off as they were, but she knew that she definitely benefited from her wealth more than others. Or maybe she was just more humble than they were.

   She glanced around the room, taking in the fresh batch of upper years that would be sharing this area with them for the rest of the year.

   Sat by the vending machine were Steve Rogers and his friends. Steve was the golden boy of the year; handsome, kind, intelligent. Pepper often mused that Tony and Steve were two sides of the same coin, but she’d never brought it up.

   Steve and Tony didn’t exactly get along very well, though Rhodey and Pepper respected Steve enough.

   On Steve’s right was his best friend, James Barnes. Though she’d heard the rest of the group call him Bucky, she wasn’t sure if it was more of a personal thing. James was a year younger than the rest of the group, only starting sixth year this year. His prosthetic arm was enough to make him stand out from the crowd, but his friends were protective enough of him that nobody dared to say anything about it.

   Next to James was Peggy. Pepper had known Peggy for just as long as she’d known Tony; Peggy’s mother was one of the highest ranking managers at Stark Industries, having been there from the beginning. Her and her younger cousin, Sharon, would often visit when they were younger, and while they were perfectly amicable, neither of them had formed any significant bond with the girls.

   Next to Peggy, reading over what looked like a paper, Sam Wilson sat crossed armed. Sam was just as good as Steve; even earning head boy. Pepper didn’t know much about Sam, besides the fact that he was head boy and supposedly dating Steve.

   Then again, those were only rumours.

   Over in the other corner, were the girls. Jane, Betty and Maria. All three of them attached at the hip since day one. Pepper liked Jane and Betty enough, though for some incomprehensible reason, she did not get on well with Maria at all. The hostility between the two of them made Tony and Steve look like best friends; said by Rhodey himself.

   “He needs to wake up, soon.” Rhodey said, checking his watch, “Lunch is over in ten minutes.”

   “I’ll do it, then.” Pepper nudged Tony’s upper arms gently.

   Rhodey chuckled.

   “He’ll wake up to that?”

   “You need to start lightly, at first.” Pepper knew all too well that attempting to wake up Tony with immediate action usually reduced in yelling, scratching, and a stunned Tony for five minutes.

   “He’s a heavy sleeper.”

   Pepper began to shake Tony lightly. “Tony, lunch is almost over.” She whispered.

   “Hm?”

   Pepper gave Rhodey a playfully smug look, to which Rhodey rolled his eyes.

   “Lunch is almost over. You have ten minutes before physics.”

   Tony groggily waved his hand. “’m not going to physics.” He mumbled.

   Pepper and Rhodey exchanged glances.

   “Tony…it’s three weeks in. You’ve gone to every single physics lesson so far this year.”

   “Yeah, missing one won’t really pain me.” Tony sighed, “I’ll get notes from Rhodes, right?”

   Rhodey gave Tony a long hard look, demanding an explanation.

   “Look. There’s a lot of crap going on right now with Stark Industries and Monger. I just need to do a check up on things and-”

   Rhodey sighed, “Tony, you’re not obliged to do anything about Stark Industries. As you said, Obadiah will deal with it.”

   “Like I’ll let Monger do anything about it.” Tony stretched, “I wouldn’t trust him with an ice-cream stand. Let alone an entire company.”

   Pepper hesitated, “Tony, I know that you don’t trust Obadiah. But this is your final year. You need to go to your classes so you can get your grades and-”

   Pepper was interrupted by the door swinging open, as a new body of other students entered the room. T’Challa walked swiftly into the room, dressed head-to-toe in black, and the usually neutral but thoughtful expression on his face. Only moving from his home country of Wakanda over two years ago, T’Challa had decided to take his final two years of education at Northview of all places. Probably because Tony went there; with T’Challa’s father being the mayor of Wakanda, he had an alliance with Tony’s father for years before T’Challa moved.

   T’Challa had immediately taken a liking to Tony’s group, and they welcomed him with open arms. He was a friendly enough person, just as thoughtful as Rhodey and just as reliable as Pepper.

   “Hey, T’Challa.” Pepper greeted him. “Did you finish the business studies essay?”

   T’Challa nodded, “Only just. I may have gone on a slight tangent, but it’s acceptable.” T’Challa placed his bag down and took a single glance at Tony. “Did you do the physics homework?”

   “Yeah yeah, it’s in my bag somewhere. You can hand it in for me?”

    T’Challa frowned. “You won’t be in physics.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. As Pepper had noted, T’Challa was almost an exact mix of Pepper and Rhodey.

   “Right. I’ll be trying to run my company.”

   “Even though you’re not required to-”

   “I’ll get the notes. Ray will pick you all up at regular time. I’ll be fine.”

   Rhodey straightened up. “Hold on. You’re driving?”

   “I’ll drive the way there, yeah.” Tony took a bite of his chocolate bar, “Ray’ll drive me back.”

   “Hold on.” Rhodey repeated. “ _You’re driving?_ ”

   “I have a licence.” Tony said bluntly. “And a car.”

   “Alright. So you don’t remember what happened the last time you drove the Stark Industries?” It’s not like Tony needed reminding. He acted like it was no big deal, but Pepper could remember it like it was yesterday. Tony got his drivers’ licence fair and square and he wasn’t a bad driver at all. At least, not when he had drunk or when he was too agitated the think straight.

   On a particularly bad day when Tony had an entire bottle of vodka the night before, he attempted to drive the Stark Industries early the next morning instead of going to school. He wasn’t missing any lessons, since he had a double free period that morning. Rhodey, Pepper and T’Challa tried to stop him, but Tony threatened to go in the afternoon instead, and miss his afternoon further mathematics lessons.

   So they let him go.

   They should’ve known that something was wrong when he didn’t show up during break. They knew that something was definitely wrong when he didn’t show up to chemistry.

   Halfway through Rhodey’s physics lesson, he got a phone call from Ray, telling him that Tony’s car crashed.

   Nothing too serious. Tony had a pretty bad scars under his eye and on his cheeks that were still slightly visible.

   Tony wasn’t a terrible driver. It’s just that he let his emotions get the better of him. If he was on his own and not thinking clearly, he’d become reckless and not focus on what he was doing.

   It’s partially why he had Ray to drive him everywhere, and partially why Rhodey and Pepper would never let Tony drive anywhere on his own. Especially if he wasn’t in the best state of mind.

   “Yeah, I remember. That was, what, three weeks ago? I was in a bad place back then.” Tony reasoned. “I drive better in the afternoon.”

   Nobody said anything. It looked like Tony was set on driving to Stark Industries this afternoon and Pepper couldn’t think of anything that would change his mind.

   “I’m going with you.” Rhodey declared. The side of Tony’s mouth quirked upwards.

   “Aw, honey. Now T’Challa is going to have to copy out two sets of notes.”

   T’Challa chuckled, and Pepper glanced around at her group of friends. She loved them all dearly, but she couldn’t help still being worried for Tony. With Rhodey by his side, Tony was less likely to do anything too foolish, but that didn’t erase whatever he was planning to say to Obadiah.

   The door opened again, and in trudged Scott Lang. In the year below, though she didn’t really know much about him. A funny guy, and quite friendly, though he could be a little oblivious at times.

   It was only then that Pepper realised that he was speed walking over to their group.

   “Hey, guys. Has anyone seen where Bruce has gone?” He sounded out of breath, and his bag wasn’t properly on his shoulder. Scott was close friends with Bruce, for reasons that Pepper couldn’t really understand. The two of them were total opposites.

   “No, sorry. I haven’t seen him since form this morning.” Pepper shook her head.

   “I saw him in the library at the beginning of lunch, but I don’t know if he’s still there.” T’Challa offered.

   Scott’s mouth scrunch up. “I’ve scanned the library. Twice. He isn’t there. Well, if you see him, tell him that I’m not getting the bus with him this afternoon. I forgot to tell him this morning.” Pepper nodded, and Scott scooted away, as is he was running late for something.

   “Well.” Tony clapped his hand together. “Lunch is over in five minutes, so should we leave now to avoid the bustle of midgets?” He glanced at Rhodey. Tony wasn’t really one for making jokes about midgets, when he had barely had a growth spurt himself. Pepper was the same height as him.

   “I guess.” Rhodey sighed. “Mr Pym is going to sense something fishy if we’re both gone, though.” Rhodey was still trying to reason with him, as if it’d be some use. Tony only shrugged in response.

   “Right, well. Time to take on Monger. Hey,” he fished out his physics homework from his bag and handed it to T’Challa. Rhodey did the same. “Have fun sitting in class.” Tony waved dramatically, and left the common room, with Rhodey casually stepping behind.

   “I worry for him, sometimes.” T’Challa said in such a low voice that Pepper wondered whether he intended for her to hear him or not.

   “Yeah.” She could only agree. It was difficult telling what scared her more: Tony’s behaviour, or the fact that Tony didn’t seem to see anything wrong with his behaviour.

   “Let us hope that we all make it through the year in one peace.” He continued, rubbing his eyes. “Because physics is killing me.”

   “It doesn’t look like it’ll get any better. Now we all have to join an extracurricular activity to improve our CVs or something.”

   “Easy.” T’Challa said quickly, “Debate club.”

   Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Do we even have a debate club?” It was the strangest idea that she’d ever heard. A debate club? In this school? She’d never even heard of a debate club, period. She didn’t know the first thing about debating.

   “We do now.” T’Challa nodded over to Steve’s group. “Sam and Peggy started it.” Pepper blinked. Sam and Peggy? Into debating? She understood Peggy enjoying it, but Sam?

   “Wh-that’s…-” She couldn’t think of anything to really say about it. “I thought you’d join athletics? Business? Or…sorry, but since when are you into debating?”

   “I’m not. But I guess…” He glanced over to Steve’s group. “To try something new. You should try it. It could be fun.”

   Pepper didn’t say anything, but she didn’t let go of the idea. A debate club. In school. With T’Challa and Peggy and Sam and maybe a few other upper years. Maybe Tony and Rhodey could join, too. At least it would give something Tony to do, other than constantly fretting over Stark Industries.

   The bell rang, and she and T’Challa got ready for their next class. Physics for him, and ICT for her. They parted at the stairs, and she attempted to prepare herself for walking into her most hated class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> **  
> _Debate Team:_  
>  Upper Year: Betty, Bruce, Jane, Maria, Peggy, Pepper, Rhodey, Sam, Steve, T'Challa and Tony
> 
> Lower Year: Bucky, Clint, Natasha, Scott and Thor
> 
> **and lastly, because i live in the UK and i'm currently in sixth form, this fic is slightly more based on the British education system than the US one. it's the one that i'm more familiar with, but i've tried to keep it ambiguous. for example, my school doesn't wear school uniform and we're also called a high school. everyone in this fic is 16 - 18, which makes some of them legal drivers and drinkers, though i know that is not the case in all countries. just a quick heads up for everyone!
> 
> reminder that all feedback is greatly appreciated! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! thank you so much for those who left Kudos and commented on the last chapter! as well as those who bookmarked! it's great to so early support, so i'm trying to get as much written as i possibly can in advance. i'm not sure how long the fic will be yet. i've currently got seven chapters written, but it'll definitely be more than that.
> 
> this chapter is the shortest so far, so i won't wait a week for the next upload. probably 4 - 5 days instead, since i'll have plenty of time to write once school is over.
> 
> and lastly, as far as i'm aware, there aren't any chapter warnings for this one, but if you think that there should be, don't be afraid to let me know!

“How many responses have we got so far?” Peggy leaned over the desk to get a glimpse of Sam, who was practically hidden behind Steve’s large frame.

   “A couple.” Sam said from the corner of his mouth, while copying notes from the board. Mr Phillips wasn’t very open to talking in class, but the three of them sat in the back row in an attempt to hide their conversations. “T’Challa said that he was considering it. So if T’Challa is, there’s a good chance that he could bring along Tony and the others. And Maria asked me about it in ICT. So that’s something.”

   “It’s five,” Peggy said bluntly. “We’ll need at least eight if we want to get started. And twelve if we want to do it properly.”

   The class was relatively silent. It was a small class of only sixteen people. More than enough for a debate team.

   “There’s still the lower years.” Steve chimed in, “Four of us, plus T’Challa and Maria. If more people could ask their friends, then that’d get us started.”

   Mr Phillips shot their row a look, and the three of them ducked their heads down.

   “I don’t think that we’ll have enough people to start this week.” Sam admitted, keeping his eyes on his paper.

   Peggy sighed. “The sooner the better.”

   They continued to be silent, the only sound coming from the scratching of pens. For once, she’d actually be getting the chance to start the debate club that she’d always wanted, and it wasn’t even certain that they’d take off. Twelve people was a lot to be asking for, and she wasn’t even sure that they could make half of that.

   “We’ll get Bucky to ask around the lower years,” Steve said. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but the bell for the end of the school day rang. The three of them quickly packed away their stuff in silence, and hurried out of the room.

   “You think we could cancel it? If it doesn’t work out?” Sam questioned them in the hallway. Peggy spun her head towards him, lips tight.

   “We’re not cancelling,” she said sternly. “I said I’d go through with this, and I will. Even if it’s just the four of us.” She couldn’t explain exactly why she was so persistent on having this debate club. She’d always been fascinated by debates, and had learned how they worked, analysing every argument and every defence that she could. Other schools have debate teams, so why not this one?

   Steve, Sam, and Bucky would do it with her, not matter what. So that was four permanent members that she could rely on.

   She’d trust them all with her life. She’d known Steve and Sam since she was eleven, as they were both boy scouts at the same building that she was a girl guide. Steve and Bucky had been neighbours since they were kids, and the four of them just clicked. 

   Sam didn’t say anything. They continued walking down the hall in silence, heading towards the exit. “Not sure if I’ll make it to athletics, tomorrow.” Steve blurted out once they were outside. Peggy and Sam glanced at him in explanation. “It’s about my Mom. Some stuff is going on. I’m not really sure, but she wants me to be there.” He continued.

   Peggy frowned. “I thought that it was all dealt with?”

   “Not entirely, Steve admitted. “I don’t know. I’ll find out tomorrow, and let you guys know.” That was Steve’s sign to drop the subject immediately, and Peggy didn’t question any further. Steve’s parents had divorced just two years ago, but his mother wasn’t holding up so well. She was very frail and seemed to constantly be ill; Steve didn’t have any other relatives that he could go to other than his dad.

   “Alright, man. Catch you tomorrow, yeah?” Sam and Peggy began walking home, while Steve waited for Bucky to emerge from Physics.

   The two continued walking home, talking animatedly about anything and everything. When they passed Pepper and T’Challa getting into Tony’s car – decked out with leather seats and a personal chauffer - Sam politely greeted them, Peggy only nodded towards them.

   “If they’re going to be joining, it’s better than nothing.” She muttered.

   “Oh, come on, Peg. They’re not that bad.”

   Peggy gritted her teeth.

   “No, they’re not. But we’re the same. We grew up in similar environments, yet they all turned out to be ostentatious rich kids who don’t seem aware that not everyone has that kind of luxury. That’s why I stopped hanging out with them. They make me uncomfortable.”

   “I sit next to Pepper in English Language. She doesn’t seem bad.” Sam was pushing to reason with her, but Peggy’s mind was set.

   “As I said, it’s better than nothing.”

   Sam dropped the subject. “Anyways, I’m heading to work. See you tomorrow.” Peggy said goodbye, and Sam crossed the road.

 

-

 

      Bruce showed the bus driver his bus pass, and dragged his feet along the floor. He noticed the same red-haired girl with crutches sitting next to the brown haired boy. He made eye contact with the girl, whose facial expression didn’t change, and proceeded to sit in the seat furthest away from them.

   The bus journey was fairly empty. Besides the three of them, there were a couple of other younger years sitting towards the back, and some elderly people in the front. He’d forgotten his headphones in the rush this morning, meaning that he had no choice but to listen to the conversations on the bus.

   “That’s got to be one of the dumbest thing’s I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard some dumb stuff.” The brown haired boy shook his head, while the lips of the red haired girl curled upwards.

   “I know. But there isn’t really much choice. Thor really wants to do it, and at least we could all do it together.”

   “A debate club really doesn’t seem like something that I’ll look forward to every week.”

   Bruce internally groaned when he realised that they were talking about the compulsory extracurricular activity thing that all upper years had to do. It was bad enough that he could barely manage his school subjects on their own, and adding a pointless club to the list would only make things worse.

   He’d heard Jane and Betty talking about it in Mathematics just before, and he’d made a mental note to pick up the flyer with the list of possible choices on them.

   Since he’d missed it this morning after he was late to form.

   “Well, Clint, if you have any better ideas, then please let me know.” The girl muttered. The rest of the bus ride was filled with their idle chat, and Bruce cursed as he thought about the amount of homework that he needed to complete at the library. He glanced at his watch. 3:30pm. Just another couple of minutes and he’d stay at the library until it closed at 6:30pm.

   Anything to avoid being at home.

   It was Monday. Meaning that his pathetic excuse for a father would have been home all day. He was likely waiting for him. Probably invited his screwed up friends over, too.

   Bruce’s phone vibrated, and he glanced at the text message that he’d received.

   From Betty.

   His stomach flipped, even though he couldn’t understand why. He didn’t like her like that. Not anymore. He couldn’t.

   _you alright? you seemed down in maths today._

Bruce sighed.

   _I’m fine. It’s a Monday. Of course I’ll be feeling down._

Had he replied too fast? Making a joke in attempt to ease the situation seemed like the best possible solution. He wasn’t getting into this right now. Not today.

   _okay. just let me know if you need anything xx_

Bruce didn’t know whether to reply to that. He waited a little longer, and sent back and ‘Okay’. He put his phone back in his pocket and leaned his head back.

 

-

 

   “I’m worried about Bruce,” Betty admitted as she and Jane walked home. “He was a little more out of it than usual.”

   Jane flashed a small smile. “You’re always worried about him.”

   “That’s not what this is about.” Betty said. “Of course, I still like him. As a friend and more. But I’m just worried for him. He won’t open up to anyone.”

   “Isn’t he friends with that kid in the year below?” Scott. She was referring to Scott as his friend.

   “Not really. They just get the bus together. I’ve never really seen them actually talk to each other in school.”

   “Tony?”

   Betty shook her head. “I don’t think that Tony is the kind of person that Bruce would open up to.”

   Jane only shrugged in response.

   “You never know. Are you still thinking about going to that debate club?” Betty wanted to ignore the change of subject and focus on Bruce. He’d told her that she was fine, but Betty knew better. She remembered when Bruce said that he was fine, yet came into school with a limp the next day as if it was no big deal.

   “I guess. I would’ve done computing, but…” She didn’t want to reveal that the real reason why she was truly considering it was because she noticed Bruce perk up when Jane had mentioned it earlier. If it meant that Bruce could be happy and maybe even enjoy himself, then she was all for it. “It doesn’t matter. Just don’t leave me on my own.” Jane smiled and Betty tried to smile back, but it was too forced.

   “Hey hey. Just think, in three more months, we’ll be in Canada. Looking at stars all day every day.”

   Betty attempted to smile again. Still forced, but more believable. Canada was great, but she couldn’t stop feeling worried for Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a note to say that feedback is always appreciated! thank you for reading! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick thank you to everyone who has been reading so far! i don't think that there are any chapter warnings for this one, but don't be afraid to let me know if you think that there should be :D

   “T’Challa?” Pepper nudged him for a third time in a struggle to get his attention. He was so focused on his work that he had barely noticed her attempts.

   “Hm?” He didn’t glance away from making notes.

   “What you said about that debate club thing…”

   “Ah, so you’re considering it.”

   “That’s not what I said.”

   “Your reaction yesterday implied that you found the idea a little strange.”

   “It’s not every day that you find out that there’s a debate team being set up in your school. I believe that my reaction was justified.”

   “If you two don’t mind,” Mr Coulson pivoted from where he was writing on the board, “other students are trying to work. Tone it down.”

   T’Challa generally liked business as a class.  Mostly because he and Pepper had some of the most outlandish conversations concerning Mr Coulson’s eccentric personality and mostly because he found Pepper’s annoyance over every little thing that Maria said or did quite amusing.

   “Anyway, we should ask Sam to get the details.”

   T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “You’re truly considering it?”

   “Yes. And Rhodey and Tony are coming, too. All four of us. It’ll be fun.”

   “We have a free period with him, next. We’ll ask him then.”

   Pepper nodded in agreement, returning to her work. He didn’t know why she suddenly seemed so interested in this debate club, but he didn’t ask. Partially because he didn’t know why he himself was so interested in it.

   As Pepper said; it could be fun.

   When the lesson was over, Pepper and T’Challa walked down to the common room. Only a handful of students had free periods at this time; Maria, Sam, Pepper and T’Challa were the only ones that T’Challa was aware of.

   Sam must’ve gotten out of History early, as he was already sitting at his usual groups corner, occupied with some work.

   “Oh, thank God you’re here, Pepper.” Sam looked up as she and T’Challa approached him. “I was going to ask you what topic you’re doing for the English Language essay.”

   “The role of language and gender. You?”

   “I’m stuck between the other two. The role of language and power or technology.”

   “You’re a technology guy.” Pepper gave him a warm smile. “Anyway, we saw the thing about the debate team that you and Peggy are setting up.

   Sam raised an eyebrow. “You want the deets?”

   Pepper glanced at T’Challa, whose facial expression didn’t change.

   “I mean, we’re not sure if we’ll even be able to get started. We wanted to meet every Wednesday after school, but it’ll be a miracle if we could get eight members by tomorrow.”

   “It’s not just us.” T’Challa added. “We’ll bring a long more people. How many are needed?”

   “It’s six per team. So, twelve if we want to be able to have proper debates.”

   At that moment, Maria walked passed where Pepper and T’Challa were talking to Sam. She lightly brushed T’Challa’s shoulder, causing for Pepper to stifle a glare in her direction.

   “Oh, is this about the debate club?” Maria directed her question towards Sam, but her eyes scanned over he and Pepper. She sat opposite Sam, and began getting out her work. T’Challa noted her scruffy handwritten business notes.

   “Yeah yeah. Well, we’ll have the first meeting tomorrow and see how many people show up. The first session will mostly be explaining and pre-debate exercises.” He leaned backwards, “So if you’re all up for it?”

   “We’ll be there.” Pepper answered for the both of them. Upon locking eyes with Maria, Pepper grabbed T’Challa’s wrist, and dragged him out of the common room.

   T’Challa didn’t say anything until they were far away from the door. “I thought that we were working in the common room, no?”

   “I’m not working in there with her judging me every move.” Pepper huffed as the two of them went up the stairs. “We can work in the library. I need a computer anyway.”

   T’Challa knew better than to question Pepper’s immense dislike for Maria, since the last time he’d asked her about the topic, she began to explain and then threw her hands up in exasperation, claiming that it was none of his business. He’d asked Tony and Rhodey about it and they only shrugged, saying that Pepper was like that sometimes.

   “We’ll let the others know about tomorrow.” T’Challa attempted to break the silence.

   Pepper didn’t respond, speed-walking into the library and throwing herself at the nearest computer.

   When T’Challa let Pepper know that he’d be working at a table, she nodded in response as he walked away.

   T’Challa figured that he may as well get started with his physics homework while he had the time. Despite the fact that he’d just handed in over four pages of questions, Mr Pym had thought that it was a bright idea to set the class two essays.

   It was only three weeks in, and he was already drowning in work.

   He spotted Bruce’s friend, Scott, working with Bucky. He gave Bucky a polite smile as he walked passed their table to reach the science section of the library.

   “I don’t know. I always swayed towards art club.” He heard Scott say, “It’s more my style.”

   “You’re the one who constantly complains about art and threatens to drop it for physics.” He could almost hear the eyebrow raise in his voice that it made T’Challa smile.

   “It’s called joking. Like I’d ever take physics. I’m surprised that you’ve made it this far without crying or something.”

   Bucky chuckled, “I’m tough.”

   “A debate club, though. That’s just…that’s on a new level.”

   “What do you mean?”

   A beat of silence. “It’s just…not your average kind of club, is it?” Scott drummed his fingers on the table as T’Challa continued scanning the shelves for a book that could help him. “I might do it, though. I mean, I don’t really have many other options. Maybe I can get Bruce to do it, too.”

   When T’Challa turned around again – with the very book that he was looking for – he noticed that Bucky was smiling a triumphant smile.

   “See you Wednesday after school, then.”

 

-

 

   Natasha both loved and hated Tuesdays. She loved them, because she only had two lessons. English Language first period and Spanish sixth period. For the rest of the day, she had free periods.

   She’d quickly developed a camaraderie with Bucky, who also shared the same free periods as her. She’d always got on with him well enough, but they’d never truly clicked. He mainly hung out with Scott for the previous years, whom she’d never gotten round to forming a bond with.

   Tuesday period two was the only time in which all year twelves had the same free period. Meaning that it was the only free period that she could spend with Clint and Thor. For the other three, she stayed with Bucky, who seemed just as nonchalant about the arrangement as she did.

   “Test me on environmental vocab?” Bucky lifted up a set of colourful looking cards in various shades of red and yellow. “If you want.”

   Natasha blinked. “You made all those?”

   He nodded once and handed her the cards, which she took. His handwriting was oddly neat, all in a perfect straight line.

   “Uh, die Verschmutzung?” Natasha’s German accent was the one that felt needed the most work on. Bucky’s, on the other hand, was practically perfect. He repeated the word to her so flawlessly; he sounded like a native.

   “That’s pollution.”

   She nodded.

   “Wiederverwerten?”

   Once again, he repeated the work back to her, and gave the corresponding English word.

   Natasha internally questioned whether he asked her to test his German simply because it was the only subject that they shared in common.

   “That reminds me.” Bucky bent down and lifted his bag from the floor. Natasha noticed how Bucky’s arm appeared to move seamlessly with the rest of his body. He wore a long sleeved jacket that covered most of it, so she almost wouldn’t have been able to tell if she hadn’t known. “Zola gave us a booklet to do for homework. You know, because you weren’t in lesson on Monday morning?” He pushed the booklet over with his prosthetic hand. “He was kind of passive aggressive about it all. Again.”

   “Well, it’s not my fault that I have diabetes.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

   Bucky shrugged. “It was the same for me. Back when the accident happened and I was off school for two months? I’m sure that half of the teachers still have a grudge against me for it.”

   “You still passed everything, though.”

   “Not everything.” Bucky shook his head. “I failed English Literature.”

   Natasha tried to compare their situations. She’d always missed school every couple of weeks or so to make an appointment. Bucky, however, had missed over two months. At the worst time of the year, too, from January until late March.

   “They shouldn’t have made you do your exams.” Natasha stated. “You should have gotten a pass.”

   Bucky shook his head again. “I caught up on everything. I’m just terrible at English Lit.” He forced a laugh. “At least I got out it time for my birthday.”

   Natasha herself forced a smile. It was kind of nice to have someone else who related to her situation.

   The rest of their day was filled with them mainly practising German work. Bucky was quite exceptional, and Natasha was surprised to find out that he had no German connections whatsoever.

   “I don’t see how you can do three languages, though.” He remarked as he stretched backwards. “You don’t get confused?”

   Natasha shrugged. “I’ve been doing French and Spanish for so long. They’ve kind of integrated in my mind.” She packed her bag as the bell for the beginning of lunch rang.  “It’s German that I struggle with. It doesn’t help that Zola doesn’t give a damn.”

   “There’s always been something about him that makes me uncomfortable.” Bucky shuddered. “I feel like he’s been out to get me since day one.”

   “Same here.”

   “I totally bombed that test, man.” Clint ran his hands through his hair as he and Thor walked into the library. “How did I forget to revise the hydrosphere?” He flopped down into the chair next to Natasha. “Trust Yinsen to put an essay question on it.”

   “Never mind.” Thor took a seat next to him. “It’s finished now. At least it’s not the final exam.”

   “Yeah, well if I don’t pass this test, I won’t even make it to the final exam.”

   “Oh, calm down, Hawkeye.” Natasha waved her hand. “It’s still the beginning of the year. You won’t get kicked off the course.” She pushed an extra water bottle in his direction, and he caught it, taking three large gulps.

   “You’re lucky that you have so many frees today,” he said. “At least I can take a well-deserved nap.”

   Natasha rolled her eyes at her friend, and gave a somewhat apologetic look to Bucky. She knew that the three of them may sometimes come across as difficult to understand – especially Clint – but she hoped that Bucky could at least understand it. Everyone knew about the three of them, and she didn’t need any more judgmental looks or comments.

   Bucky didn’t seem to notice her, but he started packing up his stuff carefully. Thor’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He stood up to leave the library, but Natasha could already hear him speaking in sombre Swedish. It was definitely his mother or father.

   Clint and Natasha exchanged glances, but didn’t say anything. There’d always been tension in Thor’s family; for completely different reasons to Clint and Natasha’s. Thor had never really been directly open about it, and the two of them knew better than to pry. Whatever it was, it wasn’t at all good. The moment that Thor got back, he slumped in his chair without looking at either of them, immediately putting in his earphones and opening his copy of _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_.

   Clint had already downed his water and Bucky had already left. Natasha was too tired to work any longer, so she and Clint played multiple rounds of tic-tac-toe, with Clint winning most of the time.

   Thor still didn’t say anything throughout lunch or their fifth free period. He would occasionally drum his fingers on the table or doodle in the margin of his notes, but he was generally radio silent. Natasha knew that he could have his periods of being quiet, yet she couldn’t help but worry about that phone call.

 

-

 

   Steve wandered into his home. It had always been quiet, but he knew that today, there wouldn’t be any silence. Today was the day that his mother would hopefully be diagnosed and treated. Various doctors and nurses had been in and out of his house for days, now. It was usually when he was in school, so he never really saw them.

   Lucky him.

   He slumped his bag down on the sofa nearest the door, and walked into the kitchen. A woman he’d never seen before was waiting for the kettle. She turned around with a fright.

   “Oh, hello! You must be Steven.” The perky woman said. Steve feigned a smile, telling her that Steve was just fine.

   “I’m guessing you’d like to see your mother? She’s upstairs with Dr Kirby. I’m Lorraine Strachan.” She nodded upwards.

   “Thank you.” Steve said. Once he was out of the kitchen, he took a deep breath. He had no idea what was going on. Whether anything would be alright. He wanted to be optimistic, but he knew that there was a very thin chance that anything would be perfectly fine. He’d learned that lesson years ago.

   As he was heading down the stairs, who he assumed was Dr Kirby was already coming down.

   “Ah, Steven. I’ve just seen your mother.” Already, Steve didn’t like that tone. He could hear a touch of forced positivity in it, when this wasn’t a situation that required positivity at all. “Yes, well I’ve left her to sleep right now, but it’s only fair for you to know. You’re a grown man.” He led him down the stairs and sat on a sofa. Miss Strachan came into the kitchen and handed a cup of coffee to Dr Kirby, who took a sip before he began talking.

   “I’m afraid, Steven, that your mother has coronary heart disease.”

   Coronary heart disease. He’d heard of it. His mother had been having chest pains for months, now. Why didn’t she go to a doctor sooner?

   “It’s not rare, but it is serious. Sarah has been diagnosed at a slightly younger age than usual, but I would strongly advise you to stay by her side as often as you can. Unfortunately, there is no cure other than lifestyle changes and some medication,” he continued. “If medication does not seem to be working, then surgery may be necessary.” He paused, giving Steve a chance to take it all in while he sipped more of his coffee.

   So there was no cure. This was it. All he had to do was make sure than she was okay and maybe, just maybe, she would be.

   “I’ve already prescribed her with some medication. If there appears to be any problem, don’t be afraid to let someone know.” He looked at him over his mug. “I trust that you’ll know what to do.”

   Steve nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, or to even meet his eyes. He couldn’t do anything. Helpless. That’s how he felt.

   Would he still be able to go to athletics? Would he be able to balance that with school and the debate club and seeing his friends? Who could he even tell? He trusted Bucky, Peggy and Sam with his life, but telling them would only make them worry, and he knew that they had just as busy lives as he did.

   Steve took another deep breath. He could do this. All he had to do was be there when his mother needed him, and things would be fine. He’d be alright.

   He’d be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

   The next physics lesson wasn’t as awkward as it could’ve been. Rhodey had to admit that it wasn’t the smartest thing to miss a lesson with no explanation, and show up to the next with all of the work perfectly caught up. Mr Pym had always been wary of Tony, but Tony’s wealth and intelligence protected him from anything more than a light warning.

   Tony scoffed, “Do I look like a politician to you?”

   Rhodey rolled his eyes, and was glad that his goggles had tinting. They were carrying out a practical – also known as the only time in physics that they could actually talk.

   T’Challa shrugged, “It’s not about politics.”

   “Yes, it is. Debating is all politicians and arguing. Which I get enough of on a daily basis. Rhodes, you getting this? Check the electroscope.”

   “Tony, we’re done. I know you love physics and all, but-”

   “I live for physics,” Tony interrupted. They’d actually finished the experiment long ago, but Tony insisted on repeating to supposedly get more accurate results. In reality, it was so that he could continue playing with the equipment.

   “We’ve all been signed up,” T’Challa said. “Pepper insists.”

   “Okay, then. I’ll go just this once, and that’ll be it.” Tony turned off the machine and removed his goggles. “If Pepper insists.”

   T’Challa sighed, and looked towards Rhodey, who only shrugged.

   “I can’t believe you’re making us do this,” he said. Because really, he didn’t ever think that he’d spend his Wednesday afternoons at a _Debate Club_ of all places. He had to admit that he’d never have contemplated about it on his own, but if it meant having something extra to add on his CV, then he may as well.

 

-

 

   The day passed quicker than Sam anticipated. He had three consecutive free periods today – two of which he was with Peggy – which meant that she was fretting about the debate club that afternoon.

   The closer they were to the end of the school day, the more that Sam started to worry, too. He knew that this was something close to Peggy’s heart and that she’d take seriously, and he just hoped to the heavens that everyone else did, too.

   Pepper didn’t bring it up in English Language. Probably because she noticed that he wasn’t as talkative today. The strange thing was that the two of them rarely communicated outside of their English Language class.

   Now, Sam was regretting not talking when he had the chance. He sat in psychology; his last lesson of the day, and he craved talking to someone. Anyone. His psychology class only had five people in it, making it his second smallest class next to ICT. He sat on his own in the back, constantly checking the clock and desperately trying to pay attention to what Mr Hogan was saying.

   He looked up. 3:15. Just ten more minutes and he could get this over with. He’d agreed to meet Peggy and Steve outside of art, and Bucky would meet them from geography.

   Why did all of their classrooms have to be so far away?

   He listened to Mr Hogan go on about the theory of aggression. Usually, Sam would be able to pay much better attention, but his mind was somewhere else right now.

   3:20.

   He checked his watch as if there would somehow be a difference in time. He didn’t know anyone else in his psychology class, and he was sure that none of them were going.

   _Good._

   Was it good? He didn’t know. He stretched his fingers out and counted to ten. Maybe if he actually focused on what Mr Hogan was saying, he wouldn’t be so anxious.

   “Alright, that’s it for today,” Sam looked up. It was only 3:23. “Remember to complete that sheet for next lesson.” Mr Hogan dismissed them, and Sam let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He packed up his stuff as quickly as he could, and speed walked out of the room.

   “Hey,” Bucky tapped him. He must’ve gotten out of geography early, then. Sam sighed.

   “Why did we agree to do this?”

   Bucky shrugged and handed Sam some gum. “You’re freaking out, Sam. If this is what you’re like-”

   “Peggy’s worse.”

   “Of course she is,” Bucky said. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

 

-

 

   Clint could think of countless of other ways that he’d rather spend his Wednesday afternoon. Sitting uncomfortably in Mr Killian’s classroom being forced into an extracurricular activity was certainly not it. 

   He, Thor, Natasha and Scott were sat next to each other, though the entire group was sat in a circle. He’d counted fifteen, and was slightly bummed that they were the only lower years. There was also Bucky, but he was sat across next to Steve and the rest of his popular friends.

   He recognised everyone in the room, but he’d only actually spoken to a couple. He’d never spoken to Bucky’s friends, but wasn’t surprised when he figured that Sam and Peggy were the ones leading it. Head boy, of course.

   He also noticed Tony Stark – who was so rich that he could probably buy the school if he wanted to. And his friends, too. Pepper, James, and the new kid, T’Challa. All born with silver spoons in their mouths. Who’d all had the latest technology, clothes, and had a personal chauffer to and from school every day. And who’d never really talked to anyone other than other rich kids.

   Yeah, Clint didn’t like them already.

   Scott had dragged along Bruce, who was smart as hell, but also so shy that it was painful. He’d barely heard him talk.

   Then there was Betty and Jane, who were also smart as hell. He’d seen Betty plenty of times, seeing as she was head girl, but he didn’t really know much about her.

   He didn’t particularly want to.

   Sam clapped his hands together and opened his mouth to speak, when the door opened.

   Maria Hill. An upper year who Clint only knew because Thor spent a lot of time in the gym with her. She strutted in, nodding at Sam, and pulled up a chair next to Betty and Jane.

   “Right, well, thank you all for coming.” Clint groaned internally. Please, don’t let this be like a school assembly. “I’m Sam, and this is Peggy.” Peggy nodded at them, her perfectly curled, brown hair bobbing a little. “Debating is a lot more, uh, fun than it seems. Hopefully you’ll all realise that.”

   The room was still silent, save for Thor drumming his fingers on his knee.

   “Well, uh, has anyone actually been debating before? Or knows how it works?”

   Nobody raised their hand, which Clint had been expecting. It’s not like there were debate teams casually set up everywhere. Clint hadn’t even known that this was a thing until two days ago.

   “That’s alright. The rules are quite simple, but firstly, you’ll need some background info. Everyone stand up and get in the middle.”

   Clint saw Natasha throw her head back as she attempted to stand in her crutches.

   “Oh, uh, you don’t have to do that. If you just want to sit down, that’s fine. There’s gonna be a lot of moving,” Sam assured her. But Natasha was stubborn, so she got up anyway, and hopped to the middle of the room like everyone else.

   Now, it was Peggy who spoke. “Debating is, first and foremost, a political act. It’s not necessary that you’re political geniuses, but it’s vital that you’re aware of the justices and injustices of the world.”

   Clint stifled a chuckle at ‘the justices and injustices of the world’. If anyone knew about that first hand, it was him.

   “What I’m going to do is read out some statements, and you have to go to the left side of the room if you agree or the right side of the room if you disagree.” She indicated with her hands. With her dark green blazer and curled hair, she looked like an air hostess. “We’ll be asking some of you to justify your opinions, occasionally.”

   Sam spoke again, reading from a sheet of paper. “The death penalty should be reintroduced.”

   Already, a joyful topic. The room divided. Clint headed over to the left side of the room, along with what looked like most of the group. The only people who disagreed were Steve, Betty, T’Challa and Scott. Thor loitered in the middle, eventually moving to the right side. Sam and Peggy had moved to the left.

   Peggy inspected the other side, and then said in a cool voice “T’Challa, why do you disagree?”

   “Death isn’t the most suitable punishment. There are other ways to punish criminals without taking a life”

   Peggy nodded sagely without comment, and moved onto the next person. “What about you, Thor? Why do you agree?”

   Thor blinked. He wasn’t used to speaking out loud in front of others. He’d either get his words muddled up, or end up going on a tangent. Clint wondered whether Thor had even been listening.

   “Some…some people. Well, you see…” he paused. Clint turned to him, but Thor stood straight, looking downwards in thought. “Reintroducing capital punishment is more likely to deter…potential future criminals. Providing closure in some uncertain cases and reducing government costs.” Thor sounded uncertain the entire time he spoke, but when Clint glanced at Peggy, she noticed a gleam in her eye, and Sam even looked impressed.

   Just shows what you can do when you actually listen.

   They continued with, thankfully, lighter topics. They seemed to cover everything from healthy eating, to underage drinking, school uniforms, and Clint’s personal favourite statement: “Golf is not considered a sport, and therefore, should not be included in the Olympics, or given funding by general sporting companies.” Clint was surprised that Thor would end up having stronger opinions on the matter than capital punishment.

   After twenty minutes, they sat in their respective circle again. Natasha looked glad to be back down after hobbling on her crutches the entire time. He would’ve said something about it, but Peggy had already begun talking.

   “Wonderful. Now that you’re all in a political mood, it’s time to explain the rules of a typical debate.” Sam grabbed a whiteboard pen and started drawing out a bird’s eye view of a seating plan.

   “A debate consists of at least six people on each side, though only four are speakers, and only three do actual debating. The non-speakers are on the floor – that’s the non-elevated area, and we’ll get to that later. The team is known as either the opposition or the proposition, depending on whether they oppose or propose the statement. Like what you’ve just been doing.”

   “Proposition always starts first, and it’s the first speaker’s job to set the debate, and bring up all possible arguments. Then the first opposition speaks, and then the second proposition, and the second proposition, and so on.” As Peggy said this, Sam indicated by drawing various arrows in between different speakers.

   “The fourth speaker on each team is known as the summary speaker. They don’t actually debate; instead, it’s their job to summarise what has been said, without introducing any new arguments unless they are counterarguments to what has previously been left unaddressed.”

   Clint rubbed his eyes. He was already ridiculously confused, and it didn’t help that everyone else appeared to be following this just fine.

   “After all the speakers have spoken,” Sam continued, “the people on the floor have opportunities to contribute to the argument. This is the only time that new arguments can be brought in, but previous arguments can’t.”

   Peggy nodded, “And that’s when the debate ends. Any questions?”

   The room was silent. Clint barely remembered what any of them had said. He nudged Natasha next to him, who looked just as blank as he did.

   “So, how long does a debate actually last?” Maria called from the far end of the room.

   “The timing varies. Each speaker has a maximum of three minutes to speak, and floor questions can last for as long as they go on for,” Peggy answered.

   “Look, it’s a lot to take in, but it’s easy to get the hang of once you actually give it a go,” offered Sam. Clint could still barely remember anything. Four speakers, the last one summarises. The agreeing team always starts. How hard could it be?

   “There are still a crap tonne of other rules, but for the sake of not having us yammer on…” Sam turned his head to Peggy, who rolled her eyes.

   “I guess we can…do a practice. Of an amateur debate.”

   Amateur.

   “Is there anyone who desperately wants this round?” Sam asked around. Clint looked around too, and wasn’t surprised to find Thor quickly raise his hand. He also saw Tony, Maria, Jane, Betty and Scott raise their hands, too.

   “If you don’t volunteer, you’ll be selected at random,” Peggy warned as she shuffled through a pack of cards, which Clint guessed had various statements on.

   Even when they’d rearranged the chairs in rows of four facing each other, nobody else had volunteered. Clint was still iffy towards the rules, and he’d rather watch Thor drag all of those upper years in his arguments anyway.

   “It’s six debaters _per team_.” Peggy said. Still, nobody moved.

   Annoyed, she picked up the list that they signed on their way in, dragging her finger up and down.

   “Rhodey, Sam, Pepper and Clint,” she stated, gesturing to the four empty seats. “You’re a team against the other six.” She looked towards the six volunteers, “decide which four of you will be in the actual debate, and which two will be on the floor.”

   Sam looked offended that Peggy had made him a volunteer, but she sent him a death glare before he could argue. This time, Clint really did groan. Not only was he thrust into a debate, but with a bunch of people he barely knew against some of the smartest people in the school, and one of his best friends. Great.

   “You’re statement is…” Peggy picked up a card from a pile, and her eyebrows raised once she read it.

   “There should be a percentage increase on taxes for the rich.”

   Clint stifled a scoff at the topic. Well, at least it was something he could argue about. Then he remembered who his team was, and his confidence vanished.

   “You six, because you’re on my right, you’re proposition. Proposition is always in the right – or the left to the audience, at least. You four are opposition. Everyone else is on the neutral floor. In a typical debate, teams are given up to thirty minutes to plan their arguments, but for the sake of time,” she glanced at the clock, “you’ll have ten. Don’t forget to decide on positions and arguments, and notes can be passed throughout the debate. Good luck.”

   Clint stayed put as the rest of his team got up to move into a group. So, not only did he have to argue against something that he fully supported, but he also had to do it with people who he _knew_ fully supported it.

   Okay, so he didn’t really know much about Sam’s financial situation, and he didn’t want to judge, but even if Sam wasn’t ‘rich’ in a traditional sense, they were still on the same team and Pepper and James, who were.

   “Go on,” Natasha muttered. “I’d love to see you give them Hell.”

   Clint gave her a look, and said “And Thor?”

   Natasha shrugged, “It depends on your position, doesn’t it? If you don’t go before or after him, and neither of you are summary speakers, then you won’t have to argue against him at all. Unless he’s on the floor, because that’s when he can drag _you_ to Hell and back without worrying about a time limit.”

   Clint blinked at her. He should have guessed that she had picked up on the rules to all of this so quickly. Or she did extra reading. Probably both.

   “Hey, you’ll do great. Now get up and go, before I knock your chair over.”

   Clint got up and sat with his team. More like some misfits, but whatever.

   “Right, before we get started, does anyone want to be a particular speaker?” Sam asked once he’d sat down.

   Clint thought. He definitely didn’t want to be summary speaker, but first speaker had to set the scene for the entire debate. They were opposition, which meant that Clint would technically be the second speaker of the entire thing.

   Clint threw up his hand. “I’ll be first.”

   Sam nodded, and they began to construct their arguments. Clint noticed that Pepper and James were being a lot more reserved than he’d known them. He guessed that it was because they knew that this was a topic that would directly affect them. He’d tried to peek at the opposition, and was surprised, yet proud, that Thor appeared to be taking over. Looks likes his friendship with Thor had payed off.

   “Do you think Tony will be a speaker?” he heard James whisper to Pepper. Pepper lifted an eyebrow and they exchanged an unreadable glance.

   “Hard to say,” she said.

   So even Tony Stark’s ‘best friends’ didn’t know him well enough to foresee his actions. Either that, or he was too unpredictable for his actions to be foreseen by anyone.

   When the ten minutes were up, they each carried with them a single sheet of paper with their notes, and took their assigned seats. On their team, Clint was first speaker, with Pepper second, Sam third, and James as the summary speaker. What he thought was a good line-up.

   Clint scanned the proposition team as quickly as he could. He wasn’t surprised to see Thor was third speaker; Sam had helpfully informed them that third speakers tended to give the most arguments, as well as being able to ‘rebuttal’ the most arguments, too. Rebuttal simply meaning that they could counter arguments.

   What surprised Clint was the rest of the line-up. Maria and Scott were on the floor, which put Jane as first speaker, Betty and second, and Tony as summary speaker.

   Clint let out a low whistle. He didn’t mind going after Jane, but he wondered how Thor would counter Pepper, and most of all, how James would counter Tony.

   Tony grinned at Rhodey from where he sat opposite him, and sent a thumbs up towards Pepper. Clint tried to get Thor’s attention, but he was too focused on his notes, and didn’t even look up until Peggy stood at the front.

   “Right, because this is the first debate, this will be a lot more casual and with a lot less rules than typically used.” She looked pained as she said this. Who knew that debating could mean this much to Peggy Carter? He wondered whether she wanted to be a politician when she was older. “Remember to stand when giving your arguments, and debating must end when the three minutes are up.”

   She sat in a chair that faced directly down the two opposite facing rows, her legs crossed, looking like a teacher herself.

   “Just a quick reminder of the subject at hand: There should be a percentage increase on taxes for the rich. Proposition, begin.”

   Peggy pressed the timer, and Jane stood, eyes bright, without even looking at her notes. “Yes, well, proposition believes that the rich should have a percentage increase in their taxes, because numbers show that they quite frankly, will not be significantly affected by greater taxes. To give a basic example,” she glanced down at her notes, “an average ‘rich’ person who say, has an annual income of £80,000 a year,” Clint noticed Tony make a face at this. Did £80,000 a year not seem like much to him? Clint was certain that his ‘family’ didn’t even earn a quarter of that.

   “…which would give them a total taxable value of £69,000 a year. While this may seem like a large amount, it’s enough to remember that this taxable value is not fixed, nor is it certain.” Except, it was certain. Clint knew that while the taxable value did seem like a large amount, there was still a tax free allowance that was the rest of the salary. Doing a quick sum in his head, he knew that meant £11,000 to keep each month _at least._

   Jane completed the rest of the calculation, when she confirmed that the average net wage – or ‘take home- pay – would fall somewhere around £53,000, while was still a considerable merit.

   It was only then that Clint remembered that he was supposed to be arguing against her, and that he had to give reasons why the rich shouldn’t be taxed. As if there wasn’t any data to support it.

   Jane sat down, and Peggy turned to face him.

   Clint slowly stood up. He’d never really feared public speaking before, but he did fear making a fool of himself. He glanced down at his notes, trying to understand Sam’s scruffy handwriting. Wait, had Peggy started the timer already? How long did he have?

   “To, uh, counter what you just said. While increasing taxes on the rich would have less of an effect,” he glanced at his notes again. All it said was the word ‘definition’. What did that even mean? What did Sam say?

   “Oh, uh, because the idea wealth varies between people, regions, and lifestyles. So even if two people earn £80,000 a year, giving them the same percentage tax doesn’t mean that they won’t struggle in the same way. Also, uh, it’s unknown-” he was interrupted with Rhodey passing him a note. Clint frowned slightly as he opened it, reading a small paragraph that was scribbled in blue pen.

  _Tax increases = negative effect on economy = less consumer money to invest_

   Wait, what did that even mean? That the consumers – aka spenders – wouldn’t be able to buy the same goods with increased taxes? Was that even fair?

   Like most things, Clint stifled a groan and decided to wing it.

   “Right,” he put his notes away, and folded his arms. “An increase on taxes for the rich is a shit idea. You know why? Because it means that the rich ones are gonna be spending more on taxes than they are on goods and services, which will fuck up the economy.”

   He noticed Peggy’s slight eyebrow raise and Tony’s smirk, which Clint opted to ignore. This wasn’t a ‘real’ debate, so he felt no need to speak like a presidential candidate. Especially about something that he barely understood himself.

   “You know how? Say, you’ve got a fancy car company or whatever. Rich people buy expensive fancy cars. But if they’re spending more money on taxes, then they won’t be able to afford that fancy car. Or at least, it’ll be harder for them to. So now, less of those expensive fancy cars are going to be sold, which will harm the business and the entire process. All of the manufacturers, the salesmen, marketing team and that lot will probably lose their jobs, because they couldn’t even make any profit.”

   “And if the rich people can’t afford the expensive, fancy cars, then what chances are the less rich people going to, huh? You’re telling me that the taxable value isn’t fixed, but neither if the price of the car. The price of the car changes depending on how many people are buying it, as well as the initial price to make it. Cause, you know, quality and stuff.”

   He tried not to roll his eyes as he said this, but it almost couldn’t be helped. He never really cared about quality; as long as something did its job.

   “So taxing the rich doesn’t just affect them, but it kind of affects everyone else, too. It’ll increase prices not just for them, which is unfair, to be perfectly honest with you. It’s not just about expensive, fancy cars. That’s one major thing you’ve got to remember. So-”

    “Time’s up,” Peggy said casually. She stopped looking at him and turned to face Betty. Clint blinked.

   “That’s three minutes?” He muttered to nobody in particular.

   “You managed to fill your time slot,” she said. “That’s impressive.”

   Clint raised his eyebrows. Impressive? All he did was ramble against Jane, and he probably would be lost if James didn’t pass those notes to his struggling-self about halfway through.

   Pepper gave him an encouraging nudge, and he sent a small look of thanks to her. He tried not to look to nice; that still didn’t erase her status. He felt guilty for thinking this, but he felt that she was only praising him because he was defending her. And he also hated the fact that he felt guilty for thinking that.

   The debate continued, and Clint felt slightly out of place that he was the only one who didn’t speak too formally. That was, at least until Tony spoke. Someone of Tony’s status and upbringing shouldn’t speak that same way that Clint would, and yet, he did.

   Peggy kept a neutral face the entire time. Again, with her appearance and facial expression, Clint felt like he was at an impromptu job interview with everyone else.

   If he was, he probably wouldn’t have gotten the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully the rules are explained well enough that it makes sense? debate rules vary slightly, depending on which rule book is used, but these are the ones that i learned!
> 
> just a quick note to say thank you to all the readers so far & that feedback is greatly appreciated! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i personally really love this chapter <3
> 
> no chapter warnings, unless you think that there should be :D

   Pepper hated ICT. With a fiery, burning, passion. She didn’t mind it so much so much when she was younger and actually able to enjoy it, but since she began lower year, it had quickly become her most hated lesson.

   For one thing, her class was radio silent. There were only four people in it: herself, Maria, Sam and Hogun. She got on well enough with Sam, but Mr Hammer insisted that everyone sit on their own row, leading every single lesson to being unreasonably awkward.

   Secondly, it had been quite clear to her from day one – along with the rest of the class – that Mr Hammer didn’t know what he was doing. He constantly showed up late to lessons, and left the room for unexplained reasons. In the rare occasions that he was actually in the room, he’d stutter, go on a tangent, or leave long periods of silence altogether.

   This didn’t help the fact that the work load was ridiculous. Pepper was sure that she received more work for ICT than she did for the rest of her subjects combined. She remembered how many times last year that she had to stay after school to finish her work, or she’d ask Mr Coulson about what exactly she was supposed to do.

   Seeing as he was supposed to be their teacher, but ever since he took up the school councillor position, he couldn’t balance it with teaching ICT and Business, so he dropped teaching ICT, leaving their class stuck with Hammer.

   Pepper logged on at her usual computer in the front row. Yet, another thing she hated about this class. She was seated directly in front of Maria, and while they never spoke throughout their lessons, they’d occasionally have to work together.

   And Pepper hated every minute of it.

   “Right,” Mr Hammer clapped his hands together. His suit was slightly too big for him, and the lenses of his glasses were so thick that they made his eyes look much bigger than they were. It was quite jarring at first, and she’d only recently gotten used to it.

   “So, you’ve, uh, all been, uh, doing your…extended projects, right?” Nobody answered. “Yeah, right? So, you’ve all just kind of, uh, got to continue with all of that, and uh. If you need anything, just ask.” What was funny was that nobody ever asked Mr Hammer for help, so he must have assumed that nobody ever had any trouble with the work. This led to a repetitive cycle throughout the previous year that would only continue.

   Pepper searched for her files. ICT tied into Business quite well. For their extended projects, they had to create various spreadsheets, power points and word documents proposing a business idea.

   It sounded easy enough, but Pepper knew that anything in ICT was anything but.

   She cocked her head to one side as she looked through her area. Where was her folder?

   Every time she logged on, there would be her folder ‘ _Pepper Potts – EPICT_ ’ waiting for her, containing all of her work from last year.

   Where was it?

   She searched all of the folders on the computer. She checked the shared drive and the dustbin.

   It wasn’t there.

   She looked around to see if anyone else was having the same problem. It didn’t look like it. Sam was already typing, getting on with his work as always. Hogun’s stoic face read through whatever word document it was. Even Maria sat there with her dark hair falling forwards as she was speed typing.

   Pepper stood up. There was no point in asking Mr Hammer for help, as there was a thin chance that he actually knew what to do.

   “Sir, can I go to the bathroom, please?” She tried not to sound suspicious, but Mr Hammer wasn’t really one to be, anyway.

   He nodded, and she left.

   She speed walked as fast as she could to Coulson’s room. At least he’d know what to do. Coulson was likely the most understanding teacher the school had, and while she was glad that he had taken up being school councillor, she greatly missed having him as an ICT teacher, too.

   She found his new room, took a moment to catch her breath, and knocked.

   She heard the gentle “Come in,” and she swiftly opened the door. Pepper was about to open her mouth to start speaking, but was caught off guard when she noticed Steve sat opposite Mr Coulson.

   “Ahh, hello Pepper. I thought that you had a lesson right now?”

   Pepper blinked. What was Steve doing in Mr Coulson’s room? He was supposed to be in a lesson right now, but why one earth was he here? Did he have a session?

   “Oh, sir. It’s just that, in ICT, my entire EPICT file is gone,” she replied, quietly. It had become a habit in their class to refer to their extended project (ICT) as EPIC T, or simply EPIC. Sam sometimes called it ‘EPIC with a silent T’ when grumbling about it. It was something that nobody else outside of their class understood. In fact, the only time that Pepper remembered smiling in those lessons was when Mr Hammer would say with a remarkably enthusiastic tone: “Make your EPIC, epic.” For some reason, Pepper found it humorous. 

   Mr Coulson raised his eyebrows, “Gone?” Pepper nodded. “Have you searched throughout the computer? The shared drive? The recycle bin?”

   “Yes, I’ve tried all of that,” she said. Mr Coulson frowned lightly. Steve sat in between them, waiting patiently. He hadn’t made eye contact with her once. She guessed that she really had interrupted his session.

   “I’ll look into it. Have you told Mr Hammer?”

   Pepper shook her head.

   “Well, get back to your lesson and let him know what’s happened. Pepper, I know that Mr Hammer can be a little…unusual, but he does know his stuff when it comes to computers. He may know what to do, all right?”

   Pepper nodded, and discreetly left the room. She made her way back to the Hellhole of her class, and hoped to the heavens that her work could somehow magically return before she got back.

 

-

 

      “I’m just saying that while it was fun, I feel that my talents lie elsewhere,” Tony declared as they packed up for Chemistry. “And I’m not just saying that because we lost the stupid thing. Peggy said that most of the points were collected from the summary speaker, aka, me.”

   “And because I held back,” Rhodey rolled his eyes.

   “Aww, now why would you do that?” Tony playfully cooed. “We were an awesome team. Jane had all the numbers, and Betty made it personal, right?”

   “Thor was good, too,” Jane called as she left the room with Betty. “You and him actually achieved the same amount of points.”

   “Oh, yeah. Well,” Tony waved his hand.

   “Well, I wish you luck finding something else to do,” T’Challa sounded mockingly hurt. “I know that you have an exclusive passion for art.”

   Tony winked and Rhodey stifle yet another eye roll. Sometimes, it seemed that it was a reflex to everything that Tony did.

   “I’ll find something. Hey, Rhodes, join choir with me.”

   “I’m good,” he replied as they left the room. “Don’t want to ruin your ego with my sensational singing voice.”

   Tony and T’Challa laughed as they headed towards the common room for break. Just before T’Challa headed towards the vending machine as usual, Rhodey reminded him to get his and Tony’s regular snack bar.

   Pepper was sat at their usual spot, picking her nails and looking agitated.

   “What’s up, Pep?” Tony asked as he slumped in his designated area of the sofa.

   “Oh, I know. How about you guess?” Pepper reclined and folded her arms, glancing between the two of them. Rhodey and Tony exchanged looks, unsure as to what it was that could be bothering Pepper so much.

   “Uh, Steph stole your clothes without asking again?” Rhodey made a weak attempt. Pepper shook her head. Pepper’s younger sister – Stephanie – was only ten-years-old, yet she acted as if she was seventeen.

   T’Challa arrived, dropping a snack bar each on Tony and Rhodey’s laps. “Is something-?”

   “Oh, T’Challa, you’ll be great at this. Guess why I’m mad,” Pepper offered, giving him an unnerving smile that only meant that she’d explode at any moment. T’Challa was silent for a moment, but was interrupted by Pepper before he could say any more.

   “Ah, is it-”

   “All of my EPICT work from last year is gone. Every. Single. File.” She looked at each of them as she emphasised the words. “All four of my power points, my five sheeted databases and my twenty page essay!” Hearing Pepper say this with an unnaturally high tone was even more disturbing. “Apparently, when all of the folders were moved to the new computer system, mine was _somehow_ lost.”

   “Aw, Pep-” Tony began, but she shot him a look, indicating that she was nowhere near finished.

   “And the best part? The absolute icing on the cake? I have to redo it all! On top of the work for this year! And in order to _help_ me, guess who I have to work with?”

   Rhodey grimaced as he figured out where she was going with this. Before Pepper could say anymore, Maria strode towards them, looking just as irritated, if not more, than Pepper.

   “I’d love to get this over with as quickly as possible. We have a free period lesson four,” she demanded. “Meet me wherever.” Just as quickly as she spoke, she turned away and walked off with Betty.

   Pepper sent a glower at her back. The signature glare that Rhodey new could kill.

   Without a word, she extended her arm to the boys, indicating her sudden need for a snack bar to preoccupy her mouth from screaming.

   “You hate this bar,” Rhodey attempted to reason with her. Pepper only cocked her head to one side, daring him to say anymore.

   He threw it to her, and she caught it with ease. She took a bite, sinking into the sofa.

   When she seemed to have calmed down, Tony cleared his throat. Rhodey and T’Challa sent him a warning look, but Tony either ignored them or remained oblivious.

   “So, Pep…” she peered at him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Would you join choir with me?”

 

-

 

   “Steve,” Peggy whispered from where she sat opposite him. Their art class was tiny. In fact, since Christine had dropped the subject last year, the only people in the class were herself, Steve and Maya. And really, the only time that either of them spoke to Maya was when they wanted her to pass something to them. None of them minded. Maya didn’t seem very talkative, besides giving a quip every once in a while.

   Steve blinked from where he appeared to have spaced out.

   “Yeah?” He replied, attempting to look as if he’d been sketching this entire time.

   Peggy frowned lightly.

   “Are you alright?” Steve hadn’t been his usual self for a good couple of days now. Something about him seemed to be withdrawn.

   “Yeah, Peg, I’m just…” he didn’t look up, instead, continued blinking at his barely-started sketch of a hand. Peggy looked up to where Mr Quill was sitting at the front of the class, his legs crossed on the table and large headphones on his head, as usual.

   “Have you sorted everything? With your mother, I mean?” She whispered, frailly, having trouble making eye contact with him.

   Steve was silent for a moment, and then he lightly shook his head, picking up the pencil and sketching again.

   “Not really,” he admitted. “There’s still some…stuff. To sort out.”

   Peggy nodded sagely. None of them had heard back from what happened on Tuesday. The only thing she knew was that Steve never went straight home after school anymore. Despite the fact that Bucky and Steve only lived a couple of streets away from each other after Steve’s family moved, Steve would always divert, giving the only reply that he’d ‘be back later’. Bucky hadn’t figured out where he was went most evenings, but he didn’t want to pry.

   They had lunch straight after Art, so Peggy and Steve headed down to the common room. Except, Steve turned to go upstairs, while Peggy went down.

   “Steve? Where are you-?”

   “I just need a quick talk with Phillips,” he said quickly.

   “We have History last lesson anyway. Why don’t-” But Steve was already jogging up the stairs. Whether he didn’t hear her, or simply ignored her, Peggy didn’t know. Whatever it was, Steve wanted to be alone, and Peggy tried to respect that. She almost forgot that she and Steve had the exact same lessons and timetable – completely by coincidence – so they were guaranteed to see each other all the time anyway. Who could blame him if he wanted to get away from her every once in a while?

   When Peggy reached the common room, she sat in her usual near the vending machine and let out a sigh.

   “Where’s Steve?” Bucky and Sam asked together.

   “He’s gone to see Phillips, apparently. I don’t know why.”

   Sam looked thoughtful, and Bucky said, “All lunch?”

   “It can’t be,” Peggy replied, “Because Phillips is teaching lower year History after lunch, isn’t he?”

   Bucky nodded, and the three of them sat beside each other, feeling guilty for being so curious into their friend’s life. It was enough for Steve to miss athletics once for personal reasons, but for Steve to be withdrawn for the rest of the week, without explaining the outcome, was entirely something else.

 

-

 

   Maria charged into the room, a neutral expression on her face, her leather jacket flying behind her. She would have preferred to spend her free period going over French by herself in the library. But instead, by a stroke of luck, Mr Hammer had insisted that she’d spend it, along with her subsequent free periods, helping Pepper Potts.

   By ‘helping’ she hoped that it meant, ‘silently supervising’. She didn’t _want_ to help her. There was a good chance that it would either end with the two of them arguing, or too stubborn to talk to each other.

   Pepper was already there, showing no notice of seeing Maria walk in. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied up, today. Something that she never did often.

   Maria didn’t bother greeting her, so she sat in her usual computer behind Pepper, and got out her French book.

   They sat in silence for a good twenty minutes. Not that Maria minded. Pepper was typing away on what looked like a spread sheet. Maria pretended not to be surprised at how quickly Pepper had already drawn out a full spread sheet, and was already onto the calculations.

   Then, the typing stopped.

   She heard Pepper sigh as she deflated in her chair.

   “Computer crash?” Maria dismissed as she took a sip of her water. Pepper whizzed around, the same frown on her face that she always had when she looked at her. Maria took an odd satisfaction in that.

   “Are you going to do a magic trick and fix it?” she remarked, a mocking tone in her voice.

   “No,” Maria replied, bluntly. “If you really want a magic trick, you can try turning it off and on again.”

   Pepper rolled her eyes, facing forwards again. She didn’t say anything more, though Maria didn’t disregard the possibility that she’d muttered something under her breath.

   Pepper did exactly that, not turning back to face Maria. The computer turned on, and Pepper logged in again. Maria looked down at her French book and her almost-finished essay.

   “If you have another trick,” Pepper sighed again, still facing the front, “Tell me how to stop my work from deleting.”

   Maria arched an eyebrow, “You didn’t save it?”

   “Of course I saved it,” Pepper hissed, turning to face her. “Something’s up with this computer.”

   Maria blinked, “Move to another one.” It wasn’t rocket science. She felt less like a helper and more like an annoying video game companion.

   It wasn’t like there weren’t any other computers. There were still over twenty computers in the room for the larger classes.

   “Don’t tell me that you’re too attached to that seat to make a necessary change.”

   Pepper didn’t say anything again, and instead, moved to the computer on her right. With ten rows of two computers, Pepper now sat almost diagonally to Maria, so she could see her from the side of her eye.

   Maria let out a breath of a laugh at how easy it was to annoy Pepper just by existing. Almost the same as how easy it was to annoy her father for the same reason.

   Maybe this one could be fun.

   “So,” Maria said, “what was your business?”

   Pepper paused from where she was typing, as if analysing whether she was being mocked or not. She mumbled something that Maria didn’t catch.

   “What?”

   “It’s a café,” Pepper emphasised, facing sideways.

   “Ah,” Maria said. “Cafés are cool.”

   Pepper turned around, staring her down. Maria stared right back, the side of her mouth curving into a smile.

   “I’m trying to concentrate,” Pepper growled. Maria shrugged again.

   “I’m supposed to help you, aren’t I?”

   “Help me, then. As in, actually be useful.”

   Maria dropped her pen, and leaned back, her arms folded. “What kind of café?”

   “It’s just a normal one.”

   “I don’t know what that means.”

   “It’s just a café. Nothing special,” Pepper turned to the front again, clearly agitated.

   “Well, what kind of stuff do you plan on selling?”

   “Oh, I don’t know. What kind of stuff do you buy from a café?”

   “I was guessing,” Maria began, “some kind of food. Drinks, maybe.”

   Pepper was typing viciously fast, as if trying to drown out Maria’s voice, so she continued.

   “You know, the basics. Cupcakes, with different flavours. Chocolate, carrot, coffee, red vel-”

   “I’ve got all that,” Pepper interrupted, still typing.

   “Oh, good,” Maria said brightly, “Do you know how much you’ll charge for one?”

   “I don’t know, how much would _you_ pay for one?”

   Maria pretended to think, “I want to hear how much you’re charging, first.”

   The room was silent for again. Pepper was still typing away, and Maria took more satisfaction in the fact that Pepper refused to tell her anything.

   “£3.50,” Pepper suddenly said. Maria almost rolled her eyes at the ridiculously high price.

   “For a cupcake? I’m pretty sure in some places, you could get three with that,” remarked Maria. Pepper didn’t seem fazed, and Maria found oddly amusing. “Obviously, for someone like you, that may not seem like much. I know what you’re like.”

   Pepper stopped typing for once, and turned around. Her eyes set in a fixed scowl.

   “What exactly am I like?”

   Maria leaned forward, emphasising each word, “You’re oblivious. A spoiled, rich kid who doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that not everyone is like you. You may not think it, but it shows in everything you do,” Maria gestured to Pepper’s computer. “Like that.”

   “If you think for one seco-”

   “I wasn’t finished.”

   “Just like how I’m nowhere _near_ finished my work.”

   “Oh, it’s back to you again, I see,” Maria leaned back, sighing at how easily her point was proven. “Silly me.”

   Pepper turned forwards again, “I don’t need your help,” she shot.

   “Maybe you don’t,” Maria shrugged as she packed away her things, “But Sam and Hogun haven’t even finished the first section.” Their EPICT work was split into three sections for the two years that they had to complete it. The first section was the longest, but easiest, and was done throughout their lower year. Sections two and three were shorter, but much more challenging, and were to be completed throughout their upper year.

   Pepper paused, “You’ve finished section one?”

   “In July. Just before the end of the year,” she began, “Started section two in the last week of school.”

   The room was silent again, not even Pepper’s typing filling it.

   “How much did you get?”

   “Hm?”

   “What mark?”

   Maria smiled; disappointed that Pepper couldn’t see it. “72 out of 80.” With that, she picked up her bag and strolled out of the room, trying but failing to read Pepper’s facial expression. “See you in Business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is greatly encouraged! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm soooo sorry for the long update. i was on holiday in Africa with limited wi-fi, and i hadn't edited this chapter yet. school is starting up again soon, too, and it's my final year, so i'll need to balance writing with school work, uni applications, etc. hopefully this chapter delivers, because it's my favourite so far.
> 
>  
> 
> _**CHAPTER WARNINGS:** implications of abuse  & swearing._

   “I’m just saying,” Jane insisted as she continued scribbling out her notes for mathematics, “it’s clearly wrong. The text book shows the exact same method, but the answer is two decimal points off.”

   Betty sighed from where she sat opposite her best friend on a desk in the library. While Jane was still rechecking the problem in the book, she took this moment to glance at Bruce, who sat hunched over his own work in a chair in the corner. Betty guessed that it was mathematics, too. He had his glasses on, scribbling away, mouth scrunched in concentration.

   Betty would give anything in that moment to drift over, and curl up beside him like she used to. Except, she couldn’t. That’s just not how things were any more.

   “You’re ridiculous, you know?” Jane said with such a low, casual manner that Betty questioned whether she was talking to herself again. “You’re not going to tell me what happened between you two, are you?” Jane had finally looked up from her text book, eyeing Betty from where she sat.

   “I told you. I can’t.”

   “But,” Jane gave her full attention, “you told me that you were over it. Over _him_.”

   “Not so loud.”

   It was Jane’s turn to sigh, throwing her head back lightly. “I’m not exactly sure how all of this…” she gestured around Betty, looking for a word that had escaped her, “…dating thing works. But it’s been almost four months and not even Kiruna can make you feel better. I’m sensing lies.”

   “I said that I’d try to forget it,” Betty corrected. “I never said that I was over him.”

   Jane fell silent, but Betty knew that didn’t mean that she’d drop the topic. She hadn’t told Jane exactly what happened between them, and a part of her didn’t ever want Jane to know.

   Betty leaned over, looking at Jane over her glasses. “Please keep watch of him in Physics,” she whispered. “Please.”

   “Betty, he never mentions you, okay? In fact, he barely even talks unless it’s about the work. And most of the time, it’s to himself.” Despite the fact that Jane had told her the same thing multiple times, Betty just couldn’t let it go. Even when she insisted that she wasn’t still half in love with him, it was clear that Jane could see right through her.

   “Of course I will,” Jane suppressed another sigh. “I will. You know I will. Just please don’t get yourself so hung up on him, okay?”

   Betty bit her lip. She could only nod in response. She knew that Jane didn’t understand it, but she didn’t need her to.

   The bell for break rang, and Betty realised that she’d spent two whole free periods doing almost nothing, except highlight a couple of paragraphs in her Chemistry book. This time last year, she and Bruce would have been sitting together in the corner, going over it together, him making the most ridiculous puns involving the work…

   It wasn’t long before Maria tramped in, her arms folded as usual, and her satchel thrown over her shoulder. She sat herself down, heaving her bag on the table.

   “Did I mention how much I hate Economics?” She declared, forcing an obviously fake smile.

   “You may have mentioned that a couple of times,” Jane muttered. After a quick glance at Betty, as if searching for approval, she threw her work down. “Tell Betty not to fret over Bruce.”

   “Jane,” Betty warned.

   “I’m sorry, Betty, but he broke your heart,” Jane growled, irritated.

   “No, he didn’t,” Betty insisted. “It was just a-”

   “Surprise?” Jane and Maria finished. It was always the excuse that Betty gave whenever she had to explain why she had been so upset when it ended. Though it was evident that neither of them bought it, she still didn’t explain.

   “Don’t dwell on it. Please. You’ve got far more important things to worry about this year.” It was a request that Maria had made countless of times before, and while Betty wanted to, she knew that she couldn’t.

   Not really.

   Of course, she trusted the two of them immensely. She had known Maria for years as they went to the same Church as children, though they never really became friends until they started high school. Maria suddenly stopped going a little before high school started, but her father still went every singly Sunday. Betty had never asked about it.

   The two of them befriended Jane when she showed up in their second year, when she had just been adopted a year before. Though Jane made it quite clear that she didn’t need protecting, that didn’t stop the invasive questions that she received by ignorant twelve-year-olds.

   The three of them had formed an endearing close friendship. Especially because Jane’s Dad – Erik – was a far better father than either Maria or Betty’s.

   That was a silent truth that they all agreed on.

   Because of this, it wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to spend much of their time at Jane’s house. Erik was extremely welcoming, and the low-down, cream-coloured bungalow was a refreshing change to Betty’s own vintage, stately-home.

   “I’m going to sneak out after lunch,” Maria began. “I’m not spending a double free period helping someone who can’t even switch computers.”

   “You have to.” Jane mumbled. “Go.”

   “No.” Maria took a sip of her water. “She doesn’t want my help. Said it herself. And I certainly don’t want to-”

   “Hey,” Tony had leaned over their table, a knowing smile of his face. The same smile that he did whenever he needed something. Most of the time, notes.

   Maria shut her mouth, taking a grand sip of water in an attempt to hide what she’d just been saying. Though none of them disliked Tony, it wasn’t ideal for him to overhear Maria ranting about one of his best friends.

   “Which notes do you need?” Jane sighed, lifting up her bag.

   “Chemistry?”

   Jane sent him a look. “I thought you were all caught up?”

   “Yeah, I read the whole text book. I just didn’t write anything down.”

   Jane handed him her Chemistry book, but Tony still didn’t move. “Thing is though…”

   “What else?”

   “Erskine is absent. Today.”

   “You’re kidding.”

   Tony shook his head, “Yeah, I’m not. Shame, because I worked so hard.” Mr Erskine was likely the most brilliant teacher in the entire school. Not only did her regularly teach three subjects – Mathematics, Further Mathematics and Chemistry – but he was still qualified to teach German and even Biology. Mr Erskine being absent, even for a single day, could potentially make the whole timetable collapse.

   “Well, that means…”

   “No Chemistry or Further Mathematics.” Tony finished off for Jane.

   “So I only came into school for one lesson,” Jane said. “Fantastic.”

   “Double afternoon free period,” Maria pointed out, though her face showed her regret in making her presence known. Tony turned towards her, his face lighting up in an expression that Betty couldn’t fathom.

   “Ah, there you are.”

   “I’ve been sitting here the entire time,” Maria muttered.

   “Yeah, well. Glad you’re helping Pep.”

   Maria didn’t say anything.

   “Just, you know. She can be kind of cranky.”

   Maria shrugged in response, deciding that opening her mouth would only result in her reciting ever swear word under the sun.

   It didn’t seem to matter, anyway. Tony gave them his usual eccentric wave, and left their table. Maria waited until he had completely left the room before she spoke again.

   “I’m still not doing it,” Maria said. “Only if you go with me.” She looked towards Jane as she said this.

   “Maria-”

   “Jane, _please_. I can’t be stuck in a room with her for two whole hours.”

   Jane looked between Betty and Maria, as if Betty was going to step in at any time.

   “You can still do your work,” Betty offered.

   Jane continued looking between them, Betty leaning backwards, trying to steal a glance at Bruce. Maria’s sharp gaze remained on Jane until she finally gave in.

   “It’s…fine. Fine, I’ll go. But if it ends with the two of you killing each other-”

   “You’ll film it,” Maria interrupted. “Think of the views that it would get.”

   “Local troublemaker, 17, fights wealthy whiz-kid,” Betty quoted, spreading her hands in a jazz-style fashion.

   “Wins,” Maria corrected. “You know I’d win.”

   Jane shook her head at the two of them, and Betty only lightly shrugged, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge Jane.

   “As I said, you’re ridiculous.” Jane shook her head. “Both of you.”

 

-

 

   Bucky lay awake in his bed, his arms outstretched above his forehead. It was almost midnight, and as far as he was aware, Steve wasn’t home yet. Once again, he’d diverted on their usual route home. When Bucky asked him where he was going, Steve only replied ‘Not far. I’ll be back soon’.

   That was at 3:00pm. He’d tried calling Steve multiple times, and Steve only picked up once four hours ago, when he clearly wasn’t home. The background was peculiarly quiet, with Steve’s voice barely above a whisper.

   What was even more harrowing was that Bucky knew, without a doubt, that Steve wasn’t okay. And it made Bucky feel useless that he couldn’t do anything about it.

   Bucky had gone over to Steve’s house when it had just gone 10:00pm, and Steve wasn’t there. He did stumble across Steve’s mother – Sarah – who, for the first time, seemed surprised to see him there. Bucky had the key to Steve’s house since they were kids. Bucky was always coming in and out of their house and Sarah never seemed uneasy to have him around.

   But, when Bucky went over this time, Sarah didn’t seem herself. At all. She was extremely pale, and looked like she’d only woken up. She was wearing a dressing gown, which wasn’t completely abnormal. It was 10:00pm after all. Sarah jumped when she saw him, and when Bucky asked where Steve was, she said that she wasn’t sure and she hadn’t seen him since he left in the morning.

   So, Bucky went back home and was now apprehensively waiting for Steve to supposedly get back. She’d texted both Peggy and Sam, who lived too far away for them to visit. While they were all clearly worried, there wasn’t much that any of them could do.

   Bucky seriously contemplated going back to Steve’s house, but was far too tired to do it. He turned to his side, and closed his eyes, music still playing in his earphones.

   He woke up, gently shaken by who he thought was his mother. Instead, Steve was lying over his bed, looking exactly as he did when he left school.

   “Steve, what-”

   “Sh.”

   “Steve, what the hell-”

   “Bucky, please be quiet.” He could hear the strain in his whisper. What time was it, even?

   Bucky checked his phone, and found that it was almost 1:00am. So, Steve hadn’t even gone home?

   “Why the fuck aren’t you home? I called and called you, and you didn’t even tell me where you were.”

   “Buck, I know, I can explain.”

   “Then _explain_.”

   The room was silent. Steve was still standing over Bucky’s bed, biting his lip.

   “Not now.”

   Bucky sighed.

   “I don’t have my house keys,” Steve said. “I forgot them when I left this morning.”

   Bucky cocked his head to the side, “And that’s why you haven’t been home at all?”

   “Bucky, I’ll explain, alright? But only with all of us. Peggy and Sam, too.”

   They sat there in silence, Bucky analysing Steve as best as he could. Something was up, surely, but if Steve was really going to explain what he’d been doing…

   “You’re a punk,” Bucky muttered, tossing him the keys. “If it wasn’t an inhumane hour, I’d come with you.” And he really would. But his parents would notice him leaving the house at 1:00am, and especially considering his prosthetic arm, it was enough to say that he was an easy target.

   “Thanks, Buck.” Steve climbed out of the window; the very same way that he had entered, and had easily mastered since childhood.

   Bucky felt the weight lifted off his shoulders at the confirmation that Steve was all right. For now. It didn’t stop the anxiety in his chest, but he was too tired to think about it any further. He closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

 

-

 

   The weekend passed quicker than Scott thought it would, which he was eternally thankful for. He was supposed to spend it with Cassie and her family, but their family ‘trip’ was cancelled last minute, so Scott could peacefully spend it without fearing for his life.

   Before long, it was Monday again, and the cool breeze rustled the leaves of the trees in the warm, September air. He took his accustomed route to the bus stop, and saw Bruce standing there as usual, in his casual jeans and plain jacket, hands in his pocket.

   “Hey, Bruce,” Scott greeted him as usual, and Bruce forced a smile in response. Neither of them really spoke to each other on their bus journeys, and the only real reason why they got the bus together at all was because they just happened to get the same bus at the same time, so Scott saw no reason why they shouldn’t get the bus together.

   Okay, maybe Scott could get a little distracted and miss his stop, and maybe he was a little intimidated by some of the burlier, older kids from other schools, but that didn’t matter.

   “How’d you find debating?” Scott always had a conversation starter at hand, just to check how Bruce was doing that day. Sometimes, he could actually be quite talkative, and even _funny_. Other times, he’d only reply using short sentences, sarcasm, or with another question.

   “A waste of time,” Bruce admitted, staring vacantly ahead. “But if it’s for my CV, I guess…”

   Scott thought that he’d finish his sentence, but Bruce let it waver. Their bus arrived before Scott could say anymore, so Bruce put in his headphones, and Scott sat next to him near the middle of the bus.

   The terrible burns on his forearms still hurt like hell, despite the fact that it had been almost a month since they were inflicted. He thought that today, maybe he’d be able to go back to wearing his usual rolled-up sleeves, but it drew far more attention to himself than he would like.

   For the wrong reasons.

   Because of his fucking family.

   Instead, Scott sat there on the bus, occasionally glancing at Bruce, who stared straight ahead the entire time. The two of them usually got into school at a slightly earlier hour than needed. Scott, simply to get out of the house as early as he could. As far Scott was aware, Bruce came in to do work. He went to the library every day after school, ignoring that he was already extremely intelligent anyway.

   In a way, Scott kind of looked up to him.

   Of course, he’d never tell him that.

   They arrived at their stop, and continued walking in silence to school. Or at least, Scott was prepared for a silent trip. It wasn’t long before Bruce simply said: “And you?”

   Scott blinked. “Me, what?”

   “Debating,” Bruce said. “I thought you liked it.”

   “Oh.” Scott blinked again, surprised that Bruce was actually talking to him. “Yeah, it was pretty interesting. I mean, it has a lot of rules, but it’s a giant excuse to piss people off, so…”

   “Enthusiastic,” Bruce mumbled.

   “Right.”

   By the time they’d reached the gate, Bruce turned to go to the library, and Scott, to the common room. It was the start of a new week, but Scott found himself looking forward to Wednesday more than he normally would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while i wasn't able to type anything, i did manage to write a thorough, coherent plan and i can confirm that this fic will be twenty-five chapters _at least_. it's difficult trying to equally balance sixteen characters but everything will come together nicely, hopefully. thank you for reading  & feedback is always welcome! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**CHAPTER WARNINGS:** mentions of alcohol_

   “Something that wasn’t covered last week, which is quite valuable to debating, is the point of information,” Sam said at the front of Killian’s English room. He was back here again, teaching some kids how to debate for no reason other than Peggy’s insistence and the school’s forcible nature.

   “This is a vital key that can happen at any time. It is more or less the opportunity to interrupt someone during a debate, though it does come with some strict rules,” Peggy continued. “While I say that they are vital, their usage is not required, _but_ if used, they must be used correctly.”

   When Sam had glanced around the room, it was the exact same fourteen people who had arrived last week. Sam was pleasantly shocked that the likes of Tony Stark had decided to show up again, and was oddly touched that Steve managed to make it, despite the clear issues in his home life at the moment.

   Maybe Steve was trying to pass of that he was fine. Or maybe he really wasn’t, and just needed something to do. Maybe it was just to get out of the house. Sam didn’t know, but he was just glad that Steve was there.

   “A point of information is the opportunity for a debater from the opposing team to bring up a crucial point or argument against what the current speaker is saying. They must be kept short and sharp, and in order to give one, you simply must stand up and begin your statement with ‘point of information’.”

   “But,” Sam began, “you’re not in any obligation to answer a point of information, and they can be easily declined or accepted.”

   The fourteen students sat in their awkward circle, some looking slightly confused, others looking moderately bored, and the rare couple actually looking interested. He caught Bucky’s eye, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

   “It’ll make more sense once you’ve actually done it,” Sam quickly said. He looked at Peggy, who nodded. “Any volunteers?”

   Before anyone could raise their hands, Peggy was already reading names from the list and putting them into teams.

   “Pepper, Bucky, Natasha and Tony. You’re opposition. James, Jane, Bruce and Maria, you’re proposition.” Sam mumbled, thankful that Peggy hadn’t volunteered him this time. “Your topic is,” she shuffled through the cards, looking away, until she selected one at random. “All people should be vegetarians.”

   Sam sighed at the dull topic selection, making eyes with Peggy to choose a different topic. She ignored him, and gestured for the supposed volunteers get ready. The two groups began planning their debates, and Sam moved closer towards Peggy.

   “You could have at least picked a more interesting topic,” he mumbled. “Discussing meal options isn’t the most riveting of debates.”

   “You were the one who gave up half way when selecting statements. I had to think of _something_.” Peggy replied. That shut Sam up. Why hadn’t he been paying attention when they were selecting topics? Oh yeah, because he didn’t think that anyone would care enough to show up in the first place.

   And now Sam was going to witness a bunch of teenagers argue about whether the whole world relying on vegetables for the rest of their lives was a good idea.

   Brilliant.

   When the time was up, the two teams got into their facing positions. Sam did a quick scan of the orders, and was surprised that Tony had gone first speaker in opposition, with Pepper as second, Bucky as third, and Natasha as summary.

   On the countering team, Jane had gone first again, with Maria in second, and Rhodey and Bruce as third and summary. The line-ups were fairly new to everyone. Sam hoped that at least a good strategy could lighten up such a dull subject.

   “Sam will direct this debate,” Peggy called from behind him. Sam didn’t argue, stated the topic once again, and it began.

   Jane was up, not a motor-mouth exactly, but she clearly knew what she was talking about, and Sam didn’t know whether to be intimidated or impressed. Either she was a vegetarian, or knew someone who was. Peggy was scribbling points away in the back and it was then that Sam realised that nobody had given her a point of information.

   Sam was actually glad that he was directing. Because directing wasn’t the same as keeping score, meaning that all he needed to do was look at each speaker when they spoke and tell them when their time was up.

   It took every bit of strength for Sam not to fall asleep. One could only hear people yammer about proteins, and vegetables and animals rights and diets for so long until they couldn’t take it anymore. He could sense that even the debaters were feeling bored, but Bucky still powered on like he had been confronted by someone who didn’t like his favourite band.

   Pepper began, eyes ahead, in her third speaker position. Sam gave her a nod of encouragement.

   “As stated before, eating meat is not an unnatural or unethical behaviour. It is a simple part of the cycle that all living creatures partake in. Eating meat has remained a vital part in human evolution for millions of years, and the human body has evolved to undergo an omnivore diet-”

   “Point of information,” Maria stood up, her arms folded. The tone was glacial, factual, and unnaturally polite. “But the human body has not evolved to carry an entirely omnivore diet in the traditional sense. Human teeth are far shorter and flatter than carnivorous animals, as well as having different structures of the digestive system.”

   Sam looked over to Pepper, who looked half-stunned, half-irritated as she gripped onto her tiny piece of paper with an unmistakable force. Maria sat down as if nothing had happened, leaving the room in an uncomfortable silence.

   “Well, as I was getting onto, the human body has evolved to incorporate both an herbivore and carnivore diet, which surely means that if the body has the capacity to consume both meat products and plants, then why should such a capability be left unexplored? Especially considering that meat is the most appropriate source of protein…”

   “Point of information,” Maria stood up again. Sam had to hand it to her for somehow having the nerves of getting under Pepper’s skin for the sake of winning an amateur debate.

   Or even not.

   Pepper continued as if she’d heard nothing. “…for humans. In a single serving, meat provides far more of the necessary vitamins and amino acids than a single serving of any plant food.”

   “Point of information,” Maria said again, in the same calm tone as she had before.

   “Declined,” Pepper said through gritted teeth, not looking away from the paper. Maria continued to speak anyway.

   “Are you implying that those with dietary restrictions are unable to receive the same ‘essential’ proteins in the same way as others?”

   A couple of heads turned to face Natasha, and Sam sunk in his chair as the worst thing about debating came true. It was an understatement to say that certain topics could make people uncomfortable; especially if they applied to themselves.

   He felt awkward last week having to argue about tax increases, and as boring as vegetables were, Sam thought that it was a much safer topic for a first week.

   “Point of information,” Pepper said, finally looking at Maria, and folding her own arms. “But none of my team mentioned anything about dietary restrictions.”

   “Point of information, but your implications that not following an omnivore diet goes against the years of evolution denies people the right to choose.”

   Pepper looked at her for a moment, words escaping her, and looked back down at her notes instead.

   It was only then that Sam realised that Peggy had been tapping his shoulder with her pen for goodness knows how long. She pointed to her wrist, and Sam remembered that he’d completely forgotten to record the time frame. Pepper had overridden her time.

   “All right, all right. Break time,” Sam said. He ignored Peggy’s numerous, questioning jabs and sighed.

   “That was-” Peggy began, but Sam beat her to it.

   “I’ve never seen so many rules broken in a single debate before. Firstly, you can’t give a point of information before thirty seconds after a speaker has begun speaking.” He eyed Maria, who looked unfazed. Peggy crossed something with her pen from behind Sam. “Secondly, a point of information but either be accepted or declined as soon as they are requested. Simply ignoring it is not an option.” He turned towards Pepper, who simply folded her arms tighter. “You also can’t point of information another point of information. That’s…that’s just not how it works. Also, you went over your time, running into the next speaker’s.”

   Sam lifted up his arms in exasperation and turned towards Peggy, who was counting up and subtracting the scores and the penalties.

   “I’m afraid that leaves proposition ahead by two points.”

   “Ahead?” Sam questioned.

   “Opposition brought up a new, unseen argument during their point of information, which causes the deduction.” Peggy handed Sam the sheet as if he’d be able to make sense of it. It wasn’t a professional one with all the boxes and stuff. It was Peggy’s rough, but oddly straight handwriting and some hand drawn arrows, lines and scribbles. The point was, that proposition won by a margin, no matter how well either team did now.

   Sam turned around again, sighing. “Look, I’d much rather move onto another topic. Unless any of y’all _really_ ,” he looked around at everyone in the room, hoping that nobody would defy him. “…really want to continue with this one.”

   They ended up debating about children and pocket money. Another money related issue, but far more interesting that carnivores and herbivores.

 

-

 

   “She was trying to rile me up, I swear. I don’t see why she feels the need to target me, of all people. It’s like she’s had something against me since day one.” Pepper was still rambling on about the debate club yesterday. At first, the boys politely listened, allowing her to let out her anger before it led to another outburst.

   But now, the bell had just rang for lunch, and T’Challa almost couldn’t take it anymore.

   Almost.

   He loved Pepper. He really did, but her constant irritation over Maria was even starting to annoy him of all people. At first, it was somewhat amusing, but now it was only a pit of dread in his stomach.

   It didn’t help that Pepper still had to work with her in all of their free periods. T’Challa would sometimes go with her, and Maria brought along Jane once or twice, but it did nothing to stop Pepper bad-mouthing her every chance that she had.

   “I need a break. A good break.” Pepper said as they headed towards the stairs. ICT for her again, since Maria didn’t help her during lunch times, and physics for him. With a test coming up tomorrow, T’Challa needed some peace to study.

   “Do you need one of the raisin bars?” The one that Pepper claimed she hated, but still ate when she was stressed.

   “I hate those bars,” Pepper said. T’Challa threw his head back at her, and she smiled for the first time in goodness knows how long.

   T’Challa still gave her the one that he’d bought earlier and they separated at the stairs, going to their respective classrooms.

   Mr Pym’s room was right at the end of the hall, and was one of the largest rooms in the school. T’Challa had the text book open on one of the topics that had been bothering him for days now, and while he could always ask Tony or Rhodey for help if he really needed, as he said, he needed peace right now.

   T’Challa opened the door, and wasn’t surprised to find the classroom empty.

   Almost empty.

   In the back row sat James Barnes, his hair tied back and writing smoothly on the paper.

   He looked up when T’Challa walked in and for a brief second, T’Challa froze. He couldn’t explain why, but there was something about James’ look that made him stop in his tracks.

   James’ face formed into a small smile, and it took T’Challa seconds to smile back.

   He had to say something.

   “Have you, ah, seen Mr Pym?” He finally brought the strength to ask. Because that’s what he was there for. Of course.

   “He went to the staff room for lunch. He’ll be back by the last twenty minutes.”

   T’Challa nodded and for some reason, felt like an idiot. He was saved from thinking of something else to say when Bucky pointed to T’Challa’s book with his pen and said, “Is that a question you need help on?”

   “Oh, yes. It’s, ah, upper year stuff.” Did that sound rude?

   It didn’t matter, because James shrugged and got out the same upper year book that T’Challa had in his hand.

   “What page is that?”

   “Seventy.”

   James opened the book to the very page and started reading intently. He must have read the page about three times before he looked up again. T’Challa had sat down on the desk in front of him, turning his chair around.

   “That’s some shit, that is.” James muttered. He leaned his elbows on the desk began explaining about vectors and scalars and linear motion, and stuff that T’Challa didn’t understand completely. The way that James explained things sounded so simple. Short sentences, no analogies. Always straight to the point.

   He got out a piece of paper, and was drawing vectors and magnitudes and that’s when they really got down to the mathematical side of things. T’Challa was only so good with numbers – economics wasn’t as arithmetic based as many people assumed.

   They were so engrossed in the work that neither of them noticed Mr Pym walk in exactly twenty minutes before the end of lunch. He gave them nods of approval, but that still meant that they’d have to work in silence. James didn’t lean back away from T’Challa, but simply went back to doing the work that he was doing before.

   T’Challa never thought that he could enjoy physics so much.

   So much that he almost didn’t hear the bell ring. It wasn’t until James started packing away that T’Challa realised that lunch was over.

   Why hadn’t he noticed?

   After the two of them had packed and were in the hallway, T’Challa decided that now he should really say something.

   “Thank you,” was all that he could manage. It was pathetic, really. James put his own work on hold to help T’Challa do some upper year stuff, which, how did he know it anyway? Could he ask that?

   James shook his head, the same casual look in his pale blue eyes.

   “Don’t worry about it. It’s your last year.”

   Right. Because T’Challa is one – no, two – years older than James is. Maybe even three. He can’t think about him like this.

   James had limits. James knew the limits. James knew where the deep end was.

   And so did T’Challa.

   The difference was that T’Challa had already jumped in.

 

-

 

   Another Friday, another night spent drinking away.

   And by drinking away, he meant, drinking in moderation. Because that’s what Rhodey said he should do, and Tony listened to Rhodey. Or at least, he tried to.

   Tony took a swig at his first glass of Jack Daniels, looking through the files that Obadiah didn’t want him to see.

   It pissed him off how he claimed the company. Sure, it was temporarily in his possession until Tony himself was old enough to run it, but that didn’t give him the rights to constantly change things around, refusing to tell Tony who people were or what was going on.

   It was called Stark Industries for a reason, yet nobody seemed to even pay attention to the name anymore. Everywhere he went, people were asking about Obadiah and what he was doing. Most people gave up, since Tony himself couldn’t answer many questions about Stark Industries due to knowing so little.

   It was almost laughable.

   There was a knock at the door of his bedroom. Well, floor, but he called it his room to be modest. His house wasn’t _that_ hi-tech, so Tony swept across the room and opened the door.

   “Jarvis,” Tony was surprised why Jarvis would knock. He was the only person who Tony knew who had the keys to every room in his house. About thirty different keys for all the doors, including the garage, front and back doors.

   “I’m afraid, sir, that Mr Stane would like a word with you.”

   Tony made a face.

   “Monger? Couldn’t he just call?”

   Because really, Tony hated Obadiah, and would prefer to see as little of him as possible. The last time that Tony saw Obadiah was when Tony practically yelled at him for hiding and deleting files away from Tony himself. It didn’t end well, and Rhodey insisted on driving the way back.

   “Sir, he insists on seeing you personally. Right now. If you do not come down, I have no choice but to send him up.” Jarvis sounded pained as he said this, and a part of Tony didn’t know exactly why. Jarvis was already passed his retirement age. He was nothing more than Tony’s personal butler, but Edwin Jarvis had kids and grandkids.

   Obadiah was big on threats;  always threatening people. But Obadiah had control of Stark Industries; not Tony’s personal life.

   Jarvis wasn’t legally a part of Stark Industries.

   “Don’t worry, Jarv,” Tony patted him on the back. “I’ll go.”

   Jarvis appeared to let out a breath and whisper a thanks. Tony had to hand it to him. Jarvis was terrified of Obadiah and could have finished his job years ago. But Jarvis was pretty much all that Tony had left of his family life. He’d watched Tony grow up, and couldn’t bear to leave him with someone as cold and unforgiving as Obadiah Stane.

   Even though Tony was eighteen and didn’t need to be watched over anymore, he didn’t complain.

   Tony took the lift downstairs, and rolled his eyes when he saw Obadiah sitting in the middle of a big, red sofa with two body guards standing on either side. He looked up when Tony entered the room, staring at him intently until Tony sat down.

   They sat in silence for some minutes. Obadiah watching Tony, and Tony doing everything to avoid watching back. It seemed like centuries went by before he spoke, and when he did, all that he said was “Tony.”

   Since it wasn’t a question, Tony felt no need to respond. He did finally look at him, nodding his head, but that was all.

   “How’s school been going?”

   “Like you’d care.”

   “Tony.”

   He hated this. He hated this forced father-son relationship he attempted and failed at every single time. It was stupid and obligatory. Tony shrugged.

   “It’s going all right. Physics is great. Maths and further maths is great. And chemistry.” He added to the end. Chemistry had always been his least favourite, but he may as well list the subjects.

   “Good, good. Listen, Tony. You’ll want to put your drink down for this.” Tony responded to that by taking a large gulp of his Jack Daniels. “I’m in charge of Stark Industries by law. It was put in your parents will. Particularly, your father’s.”

   Boring. Tony had had this talk a million times. That Obadiah was the one in charge, the adult around here, Tony should just focus on his school work and all that jazz.

   “However, Tony, after reading through both wills again, my team and I had discovered something else.” Obadiah shrugged. “Reading between the lines if you will.” He stretched his hand out backwards and one of the guards handed Obadiah the two thin booklets that Tony had only ever seen once in his life.

   He’d only read his parents wills once in a rushed, hazy faze. He was too upset at the time, and too bitter to ever do it properly again. He’d ask Rhodey to read it for him, but even that felt too personal for him to show anyone else.

   “Your father said that you should ensure your position of Stark Industries once you finish your education.” That, Tony knew. He would finish school this year of course. Maybe go to university, too, if he wanted. No biggie.

   “It does not state which form of education. However, after knowing your father for so long,” Tony hated it when he pulled this card. “It is likely that he means higher education. In other words; university.”

   Tony didn’t see how this changed anything. So it may have meant university. It wasn’t certain.

   “Your mother’s will, on the other hand, states that ‘Stark Industries will always belong to my son, regardless of who is running it. He may inherit it whenever the current director deems him fit enough to work without strain.’”

   Tony’s heart practically skipped a beat.

   It couldn’t be true. Tony’s mother must have written her will way before Obadiah was announced as the temporary boss. There was no way that Maria Stark would let someone like Monger run Stark Industries if he was the last person on earth.

   “In other words, Tony. You cannot inherit Stark Industries until one,” he lifted up a big, arrogant finger. “You complete your university education and two, I believe that you’re up for the job. However, clearly,” he gestured at the Jack Daniels in Tony’s hand. “Until then, it’s best that you focus on your education.”

   Tony would have said something, but Obadiah was staring at his with those hungry, beady eyes that screamed the same thing over and over again. _I win. I win. I win._

   “The wills,” Tony’s voice was barely above a whisper.

   Obadiah handed the wills to one of the guards, who tossed it to Tony’s couch. Tony put the Jack Daniels down on the floor, his hands shaking as he touched the wills for the first time in five years.

   “I hope that there aren’t any questions? I do have a business to run.” Tony didn’t bother looking up or saying goodbye. Obadiah stood up, his enormous frame shadowing the rest of the room. He began to walk out, but stopped just before the door.

   “And Tony? Go to _all_ of your lessons.”

   Tony waited until the car had driven off until he picked up the wills in one shaky hand and his Jack Daniels in the other. He took the stairs up instead, two at a time, until he was in his room. He flung the wills onto the nearest couch, and threw himself on his bed, taking another large gulp of his favourite drink, tears in his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a shorter chapter <3
> 
> _**CHAPTER WARNINGS:** some light swearing._

   Steve knew that Sam hated night shifts the most. Largely because they were so uneventful.

   They sat in the tiny café. Despite the fact that it was a Friday night, it was still September, and the place was fairly deserted. Sam stood at the counter, a playlist of nineties music on in the background as the two of them went over some history notes in comfortable silence.

   It wasn’t uncommon for Steve, Peggy or Bucky to spend a couple of hours in the Midnight Special Café during Sam’s later shifts. More often than not, it was Peggy, since she lived the closest, but Steve had to admit that he rather enjoyed the informal atmosphere that the café had.

   Steve glanced up from his own notes. It was heading towards midnight and he was starving. He hadn’t the time to go shopping over the past week, and had mainly been relying on small snacks and drinking as much water as he could. His mother was too scared to leave the house anymore, constantly snapping at him for not pulling his weight, though he was doing all that he could.

   He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t realise that Sam had been saying his name for the last minute.

   Sam blinked, “Steve?”

   He was supposed to ask him today. That’s what Steve had decided, and maybe it was the biggest reason why Steve came here this evening. He’d barely done any work with his mind constantly drifting back to his mother.

   “Steve?” Sam called again, because he had that concerned look in his eye that meant a possible onslaught of questions. Steve put his book down, and Sam straightened up.

   “Sam, look, I know you’re all worried-”

   “Worried? Steve, we’re…” Sam stopped himself, taking the time to steady himself. He nodded at Steve to continue, so Steve began again.

   “It’s just some money troubles.” Steve finally admitted. Which wasn’t a complete lie. They were currently a little tight on money, true, but that wasn’t even half of the story. “With the divorce and mom’s work. I can’t…I’m just doing some stuff for her. That’s all.”

   Sam was silent for some moments, gazing at the counter. Steve only watched him, waiting for Sam to break the silence.

   It seemed like forever until he did. Sam looked both ways, walked over, and sat on the same table as Steve.

   “Do you need help?”

   “Sam, it’s-”

   “Do. You. Need. Help?”

   They stared at each other for a brief few seconds before Steve nodded. Sam didn’t hesitate to shove his hand into his pocket and hand Steve some money. Steve didn’t know how much, and Sam didn’t count.

   “Sam, I can’t take this.”

   “Yes, you can. You need it.”

   “Sam-”

   “Don’t do anything stupid. No matter how much you need it,” Sam pleaded, not taking his eyes away from Steve. “You’re taking the money, though.” Sam practically pressed the money into Steve’s hand.

   Steve didn’t say anything more and neither did Sam. He got up and went back to the counter, and they continued to work in sustained silence.

 

-

 

   “You’re late,” Maria called as Pepper walked in. Once again, it was Tuesday, which meant a double free period. Or what would have been a free period. Pepper had finished her spreadsheet on her own just fine, but now needed to start with the corresponding power points. If she wanted to get this done on top of the work for this year, there was no time for being twenty minutes late.

   Pepper didn’t respond, but sat at her usual computer diagonally away from Maria. She immediately started to log on, her strawberry blonde hair let down today.

   Maria rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, continuing on with her own French work. They worked in relative silence for a brief couple of minutes until Pepper finally spoke.

   “How many slides for the development power point?”

   Maria shrugged, “As many as you need.”

   “Helpful,” Pepper said. “How many did you do?”

   “Seventeen. Including citations.”

   Pepper accepted this, and continued working, her fast fingers typing away, and virtually ignoring Maria until she needed help again.

   That was how they worked, and to be honest, Maria tolerated it. It wasn’t as annoying as it could have been. As long as communication was kept to an absolute minimum, Maria wasn’t so irritated.

   That didn’t mean that Pepper still wasn’t annoying. Because she was.

   “By the way,” Maria began. “I won’t be available next week. At all.”

   “Hm? Okay, why?” It was clear that Pepper was so engrossed in her work that she was barely paying attention to what Maria was saying.

   “Stuff.”

   “Stuff,” Pepper repeated, slowly. “You’re telling me that you’re unable to help me any time next week because of stuff.”

   “You don’t need the details,” Maria said.

   “I’m not asking for details. But I’d like to know the basic reason.”

   Maria took a sip of her water. “Can’t do that.”

   Pepper turned around, staring Maria down. Maria stared back.

   “You’re infuriating.”

   “Tell me something new.”

   Pepper thought for a moment, and then said. “Not all the time. You’re bearable when you want to be.”

   “Funny,” Maria said. “I thought that I was infuriating.”

   Pepper turned back around. “Ninety-nine percent of the time.”

   Maria almost had to restrain a smile. Almost.

   She didn’t want to think about that other one percent.

 

-

 

      Thor drummed his fingers on the table during his only free period of Wednesday. He’d been attempting to write this Geography essay for almost three days now, and he’d barely written more than a page.

   Everyone else was getting on with their work perfectly fine. Why couldn’t he? Clint was speeding away, writing consistently. Natasha was focusing on her own languages, probably conjugating verbs of some sort.

   Clint caught his gaze and Thor immediately stopped drumming. He was used to people telling him to stop, and though Clint wasn’t one of them, Thor had still trained himself to identify whenever someone wanted him to.

   “What’s eating you?”

   “Nothing.”

   “Nothing, my ass,” Clint gave a hand wave. “What’s up?”

   “I assure you-”

   Clint nudged Natasha, who looked up and glanced between the two of them. “Thor.”

   “Natasha.”

   “Clint,” Clint said.

   Natasha ignored him. “You’ve been out of it all day.”

   “Oh?” Thor said.

   “You didn’t take any notes through English Language,” Clint said. “You wanna copy up?”

   English Language. Simultaneously, Thor’s most loved and hated lesson. Hated, because of just how much writing it involved, but loved, because it was the only lesson with all three of them.

   Thor remained silent for a moment, staring at the table.

   “Loki,” he finally said.

   Natasha and Clint exchanged glances.

   “Thor-” Natasha began.

   “It’s Loki,” Thor finally looked at the two of them. “You know what he can be like, yes?”

   If Thor thought that he was a handful, Loki was practically nothing compared to him. Where Thor had always struggled academically, Loki was bright, and could do great things if he put in the work. The trouble was that Loki was far more concerned with doing nothing more than the bare minimum.

   He rarely came into school, and when he did, he’d arrive late, skip lessons, or leave early. Sometimes all three on the same day if he was feeling particularly rebellious. Listening in class was never an option for him, as he’d voice his opinion of the teacher’s ability to do their job, and start arguments with other students.

   He’d already been suspended twice, and the only reason why he hadn’t been completely kicked out of school was because of his exceptional grades. That, and the fact that the school was paid extra to keep him.

   Nobody even believed that they were brothers. Largely because Loki practically denied it. Besides sharing the same surname, the two of them shared no other traits.

   “What about Loki?” Clint asked, leaning forward. Clint had never liked Loki. Not that Clint had ever outright hated him, but Loki stealing Clint’s hearing aids on more than one occasion was enough for Clint to instantly frown every time his name was mentioned.

   Thor shrugged. “I fear he’s been getting worse. He’s never home, and when he is, there’s nothing but fighting. With mother and father, I mean. He has yet to spend a full, uninterrupted week in school this academic year.” Because in the four weeks that they’d been in school, Loki had likely only actually attended a handful of days.

   The three of them sat in silence, and Thor began to feel like an idiot. It’s not like Clint or Natasha could do anything about it. Telling them would only add another burden to their shoulders; and they didn’t need that.

   “I’m sorry,” Thor said.

   Natasha shook her head. “Sorry for what?”

   “I’m not sure. It’s not in my place for me to overshare such information.”

   “Thor,” Clint began, “We’re your friends.”

   “Exactly. You shouldn’t apologise for telling us anything,” said Natasha. “Okay?”

   Thor carefully considered the both of them, not knowing what to do, what he should do. They were similar, sure, yet at the same time, Thor knew that he was different from them.

   And he didn’t know whether it was a good or bad thing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sincere apologies for the late update. a lot has been going on with life at the moment, and i've been getting involved with...other fandoms. this fanfic is absolutely not dead, though. i promise. <3
> 
>  
> 
> _**CHAPTER WARNINGS:** swearing, mentions of cigarettes and smoking._

   Bucky walked in late to the next Debate session, which was ironic, because he was usually the first.

   He had no excuse to be late, really. He’d had three consecutive free periods, after all, and even he was getting a little tired on continuously working. And though he was only ‘late’ by ten minutes, he still felt apologetic as he walked in and sat down in his usual seat next to Steve in the circle that made them look like they were at a rehabilitation session.

   Steve didn’t show any acknowledgment of his entrance. In fact, it wasn’t until his phone vibrated that Steve moved at all. He checked his phone, stared blankly at it for a brief few seconds, and then put it back in his jacket pocket without a word.

   Bucky didn’t pry.

   “I think,” Peggy began, “that we’ll just get straight into a debate today. Maybe even two if use our time wisely.” She flashed a knowing glance in Pepper’s direction. Bucky looked, too, and saw T’Challa sitting next to her. They were especially close; Bucky knew that much. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder.

   “Does anyone-” Sam was cut off by Peggy once again, who began reading a list of names.

   “Steve, Bruce, Tony and Thor, you’ll be proposition. Natasha, Maria, Sam and James Rhodes, you’ll be opposition.”

   Sam sent a look towards Peggy, who ignored him. The called participants got into their groups. Bucky patting Steve on the back as he was about to attempt to win a debate against Sam and Maria, and somehow manage to get along with Tony for long enough to plan anything at all.

   “Remind me exactly why I agreed to this?” Steve said.

   “Because you’re scared of what Peggy would say if you didn’t,” Bucky replied. Steve shrugged his shoulders in response, and walked towards the proposition team. Tony and Steve didn’t even look at each other, taking their seats without a word. Bruce looked tired, and Thor was nowhere to be seen.

   That was odd. Thor was in the double history lesson this morning and seemed perfectly fine then.

   Bucky met eyes with Natasha, whose expression read something along the lines of ‘ _I’ll tell you later_ ’.

   “Your topic is,” Peggy shuffled the cards, a giant pile of thin, white paper covered in her handwriting. Bucky wondered whether the previously used cards were removed from the pile or not; it wasn’t easy to tell. “Marriage is an outdated concept.”

   Bucky bit his lip. It was a new topic, different from their previous arguments. It’d be interesting to see how it was argued.

   “Steve’s team will be opposition, and Natasha’s team will be proposition.” Peggy glanced at the watch. “You both have ten minutes. Begin.”

   The teams began planning their debates in relative silence. He kept checking the door in the hopes that Thor would show up at some point, but that didn’t appear to be happening.

   A minute passed. And then two, and then five. Thor wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

   “Peggy,” Bucky said.

   “Hm?”

   Bucky nodded over to the group of one less supposed debater. “No Thor,” he said.

   “Oh,” Peggy said. “Go on, then, I guess.”

   Bucky sauntered over to the group, giving Steve a look of a look of recognition. Steve remained firmly in his place, leaning back, but with a sense of tension in his body. Tony, on the other hand, looked as relaxed as ever, glancing around the room as if trying to locate an annoying noise.

   “I think we should-” Bruce began, but was cut off by Tony.

   “I’m fourth speaker,” Tony said.

   Bruce shrugged his shoulders, and began writing. “Okay.”

   “First,” Steve said.

   “Sure,” Bruce said, nonchalantly. It was almost as if he was preparing himself for any kind of onslaught of insults between the two of them, and had elected to hide himself in notes. As usual.

   Bucky didn’t know much about Bruce. Everything that he _did_ know was what he’d heard from Scott, and even then, it wasn’t much. He was insanely smart; Bucky knew that. He probably rivalled the likes of Tony himself, if there was anything to go by.

   Yet, his reserved manner practically made him a closed book. Bucky had never seen him hand out with any of the upper years, or even the lower years at that. Hell, Bucky had rarely seen Bruce around school at all. Sometimes, he forgot that he even went here.

   Should he feel guilty for that?

   “I’ll go third speaker,” Bucky said. Bruce looked up at him, deep into writing.

   “Oh. Okay, sure.”

   “Unless you want to-”

   “No no, it’s…anyway,” Bruce cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh, I’ve tried to come up with some stuff. How about, well, since Steve is first speaker, you can start of by talking about how marriage is a fundamental part of modern and traditional society, due to its ties to family values and, um-”

   “That’s fine,” Steve interrupted. “Let me guess: marriage is the only way to hold a family together? Or else the child could end up screwed up?”

   “Steve-” Bucky began.

   “I’m fine,” Steve growled, his arms folded. Bucky glanced between him and Tony, who looked as bored as ever. It looked like he knew better than to challenge Steve in this situation.

   “Are-you definitely want to be first speaker?” Bruce clarified.

   “ _Yes_.”

   Bucky bit his lip again. This was somehow connected with Steve’s withdrawn behaviour recently; it had to be. Bucky just wondered how long it would last.

 

-

 

   Rhodey arrived at Tony’s house sometime after five. Because Tony texted him at four, saying that he needed to see him ASAP, and while Tony could be overdramatic at times, Rhodey obliged. Because Tony was Tony, and Rhodey hadn’t seen him since lunch.

   Rhodey opened the door with his key. They all had one – him, Pepper and T’Challa. Tony had given them keys to the front and back entrances of his house as soon as he could. Rhodey used his the most, because well, he visited Tony the most.

   He walked in, making his way to Tony’s floor. Rhodey knew Tony’s house as well as he knew Tony himself; every floor, door, corner and appliance. He knew it off by heart.

   Tony wasn’t in his room, or anywhere on his floor. Rhodey rolled his eyes, knowing exactly where Tony would be if he wasn’t there. He was right, too. Tony was out smoking on the backyard patio.

   Rhodey walked up to him, not bothering to disguise his footsteps.

   “Fuck Obadiah Stane,” Tony muttered, putting out his cigarette. Rhodey watched him, assuming that he’d elaborate. When he didn’t, Rhodey sat beside him, inviting further conversation.

   “What did he do?”

   “Fuck him. Honestly.”

   “Tony,” Rhodey warned. “What happened?”

   Tony sat in silence for some time, his useless cigarette still in his hand. “What are you doing after school?”

   Rhodey blinked. “I’m here. With you.”

   Tony shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” Rhodey remained silent, once again, expecting Tony to elaborate. “What are you going to do once all of this is over?”

   It was an odd question, coming from Tony. Sure, last year, teachers wouldn’t shut up about thinking about the future and getting ready sooner rather than later. The only thing was that Tony never bothered talking about it, because he always knew exactly what he was going to do. He’d work on Stark Industries; maybe go to university if he wanted. T’Challa would go back to Wakanda with his father and sister, and Pepper was likely going to study economics and business at some university.

   Rhodey couldn’t answer about himself.

   “Funny,” Rhodey said. “Because I don’t know.”

   Tony twisted the cigarette between his fingers, staring at the ground. “You don’t?”

   “No.”

   Tony passed the cigarette to Rhodey, who dutifully took it. He hated the feel of it, knowing its damage. He hated knowing that Tony almost relied on them to keep himself in check. He couldn’t tell how many he had smoked already, but based on the atmosphere, it wasn’t many.

   Tony took out another, new cigarette, but didn’t light it. He instead, kept it in his fingers, twirling it. Rhodey sat, lost, with his. He wanted to bin it; to bin the whole lot, but Tony would never allow that.

   “Stark Industries isn’t mine,” Tony said. “It’s his. All his.”

   Rhodey had to take a moment to process what Tony had said.

   “Tony-”

   “He’s a fucking manipulative bastard, that fucki-”

   “Tony, what happened?”

   Tony only shrugged, as if he didn’t know the time.

   “Fuck I know. What I do know is that, Stark Industries isn’t mine,” he forced a chuckle, throwing his head back as if the situation was somehow hilarious. “It never was.”

   “Tony.”

   Tony shut his mouth, examining the unused cigarette, contemplating whether or not to light it. Rhodey sat in the setting, October sun, wondering what he could say. He’d always found it easy to talk to Tony, practically second nature. But for now, Rhodey couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

   “How many have you had?” Was all that Rhodey could bring himself to say.

   Tony responded by taking out the packet from his pocket, holding it briefly in front of Rhodey.

   “Twenty minus eighteen,” he shoved it back. “You don’t do mathematics, but…”

   “I can work it out,” Rhodey said. Tony grinned.

   “Knew you still had it in you.”

   “Really?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow.

   “You could have taken it.”

   “History surpasses it,” Rhodey said. Tony shook his head, a small smile on his face. The two sat in silence for a while, a gentle breeze flurrying against the leaves. The light sky was quickly dimming, and the cold was beginning to get to Rhodey.

   “I have something for you, by the way.” Tony suddenly said. Rhodey let out a breath.

   “You shouldn’t have.”

   “I should.” Tony reached in his pocket, and Rhodey half expected to be handed a packet of cigarettes. Instead, Tony handed him a set of keys. Not the house keys that he’d already owned for over a year now, but car keys. The keys to Tony’s car.

   “I’m flattered,” Rhodey said. Because being sarcastic was easier than sounding sentimental. Tony of all people knew that.

   Tony pressed the keys into Rhodey’s hand. As usual, Tony was unnaturally warm. Maybe it was all that alcohol.

   “Why are you giving this to me?”

   “Why do you think?”

   Rhodey stared at him, once again, trying to figure out how Tony worked. These weren’t his only set – Rhodey knew that, but Rhodey only ever drove Tony’s car when Tony was too mentally unbalanced to do so.

   But if that was the case, then why had Tony only given him these keys now?

   Rhodey liked to think that he knew Tony well; and he did. But sometimes, sometimes Rhodey really couldn’t figure him out. At all. It was unnerving, because Rhodey knew that he knew Tony better than anyone else.

   If Rhodey couldn’t figure him out, then who else could?

 

-

 

   Jane loved her subjects. She knew that that made her sound like a nerd, but she did genuinely enjoy school. She loved physics the most, of course. Astrophysics had always been her dream, and that meant that mathematics and further mathematics tied in perfectly.

   Chemistry, however. Chemistry was the odd one out. Jane liked chemistry enough, but if she was being honest, the only reason why she took it in the first place was because she needed two science subjects, and she didn’t dislike chemistry as much as biology.

   That was why she was sat with three chemistry books open on her bed on a Friday night. Since she had a test coming up on Monday, she needed to do as much revision as possible.

   “Hey, sis,” Darcy popped her head through the door. The same thing she always did when she needed something.

   “What do you need?” Jane murmured. Darcy faked a gasp.

   “I’m offended; now, why would you think that I need something? Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with my lovely sis-”

   “Darcy.”

   Darcy stood in the door, fiddling with her hands like a child.

   “I…need you to cover for me on Wednesday.”

   Jane raised an eyebrow. “Why? Darcy, what did you do?”

   “It’s nothing totally bad.”

   “Darcy!”

   “I forgot my German essay.”

   Jane sighed. “Again?”

   “To be fair, Zola didn’t say that it _had_ to be in on Friday.”

   “He didn’t?”

   “Nope. He said that he’d _like_ it to be done on Friday. It’s not my fault that he had a preference.”

   Jane threw her head back at her younger sister. Darcy had a tendency to be forgetful at times. At least, when it involved school. All she really cared about was art and English literature; everything else simply passed by.

   “How long is your detention?” Jane said.

   Darcy bit her lip. “Remember the lower year Halloween party? The one that you skipped out on last year?”

   “I don’t do parties,” Jane defended. Because she really didn’t. Every year, the fifth and sixth years had a huge Halloween party at school, and Jane hadn’t gone to the one last year. The first one that she went to was too loud, with too much music and talking for her. Betty had dragged her and Maria along, anyway, and Jane spent the whole time sipping drinks in the corner, while Betty basically lost her head, and Maria tried to guess everyone’s costumes.

   None of them went to the one last year. Since Betty was the only one who actually enjoyed herself, and she was skipping out because Bruce was. There was no point in any of them going anyway. They weren’t the only ones who didn’t attend the second time around; many lower years had lost the novelty feeling it had. As a fifth year, it felt trendy to be attending a party with sixth years, but as a sixth year, it felt entirely pointless.

   “Yeah, well, my detention is during it,” Darcy finished. Jane’s eyes widened.

   “You’re kidding.”

   “Nope.”

   “Darcy. That party is from six until ten. I can’t stay in school for that long. Especially not on that day.”

   “Jane, _please_. It’s not just me.”

   Jane rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, it’s that Loki kid, too?”

   “What? No. Why do you always bring him into everything?”

   “Because he’s always involved in everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the reason you’re behind in German.”

   Darcy scoffed. “Now you’re being unfair. He doesn’t even do German,” Darcy said. “Which is lucky, because he doesn’t have to deal with Zola five times a week. He absolutely loathes our class; he straight up told Sharon that he wishes he didn’t have to teach us.”

   “Fascinating,” Jane mumbled. “Are you done now?”

   “Not until I get a definitive answer from you,” Darcy grinned.

   Jane sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Fine, fine. I won’t tell Erik. Just…try to catch up on your essays.”

   Darcy jumped up and down. “Yay! You know Jane; you’re the best si-”

   “I know.”

   “It’s a shame that Loki can’t have someone like you in his life. I mean, he’s in detentions all the time, and-”

   “Wait,” Jane said. “Wait, I thought that Loki has a brother?”

   “Huh? Oh yeah, he does. Thor. He’s in lower year now. Why?”

   “I just thought…”

   “Oh.” Darcy said, finally understanding. “Oh, no. They don’t talk, much. Loki doesn’t really talk about him.”

   Jane nodded, finding it odd. She and Darcy were unbelievably close; that was the way it had always been. And while Jane had never spoken to Thor, she got the impression that he was an affectionate person. The idea that he basically ignored his own brother was difficult for her to fathom.

   And Jane couldn’t comprehend why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **edit:** when i first watched Thor, i legit thought that Jane and Darcy were sisters, and that Erik was their parental figure. i have read _a lot_ of mcu fanfics (and i mean A LOT), yet i've never seen this idea explored and i just?? don't get it?? surely i can't be the only one who saw the family dynamic??
> 
> anyway, i've been lapsing with this fic and that's awful; i'm sorry. updates will be on and off, but i'd like the thank all you readers for sticking with this fic. comments are greatly appreciated <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm this fic is kind of flopping so i'm going to orphan it
> 
>  
> 
> _**CHAPTER WARNINGS:** none._

   Natasha hobbled into the common room at lunch, Thor holding her backpack as usual. All of the fifth and sixth years had been called into the common room at the beginning of lunch for a supposed announcement. Natasha knew what it was about; the damn Halloween party coming up this month.

   Neither she, Clint, nor Thor had attended last year. Parties weren’t their thing, anyway. The booming music and constant chatter didn’t do much for Clint or Thor, and Natasha was anxious at the idea of staying out so late, even at her age. Instead, the three of them had opted to have a movie marathon at Natasha’s house.

   That was far more fun.

   Mr Killian strolled into the room, the school’s regular events administrator, and teacher of both English Language and Literature. Mr Fury stood followed behind; tall, intimidating, not someone that anyone would want to mess with. He was head teacher for a reason.

   “Afternoon, ladies and gents. Sorry to keep you all from getting your lunch, but just a couple of reminders about the upcoming Halloween party,” he began. “It’ll be held on 26th October in the school hall from six until ten. Costumes are encouraged of course, but anything offensive will cease your entry, and likely lead to a suspension.”

   “Absolutely no alcohol is permitted.” He peered around everyone in the room as he said this. His look lingered on another group of lower years. Brock Rumlow, of course. Along with the rest of his group. Natasha hated them; hated the whole lot. It was worse, seeing as she shared a majority of her lessons with them. He, Sinthea Schmidt and Baron Strucker were a group of sadists. She always felt uneasy around them.

   “Please do not attempt to bring anyone outside of school to the event. This is for pupils of Northview High School only. Everything clear?”

   The group of students nodded indifferently. Mr Killian nodded and looked at Mr Fury, who shrugged his shoulders. “Right then, off you all go to lunch.” He waved his hand in dismissal, and the students disbanded.

   “Well, that was entirely pointless,” said Clint once they were out of the room. “No need in telling us info we already know.”

   Thor shrugged. “It’s more emphasis. For some other people.”

   Natasha didn’t need to ask who the other people were.

   The three of them sat in their usual area of the library, and started to get out their lunch. Natasha handed Clint a turkey sandwich and apple. She was about to dig into her own lunch, when Scott showed up, and flumped himself next to them.

   “Do you guys know how fast you walk?” He sounded out of breath. “It’s like trying to keep up with Olympic runners.”

   The three of them just looked at each other.

   “Anyway,” Scott began to get out his lunch. “What are your costumes?”

   “I’m going in my pyjamas,” Clint said. “Because I’ll be at home.”

   Scott simply stared at him. “You’re not going?”

   “Nope.”

   “None of you guys went last year. You have to go this year. It’s your last chance.”

   “It’s not prom,” Thor said. “Halloween has never exactly been an event for me.”

   “Well, Halloween is great, and you should all come. It’s the one time a year when you can actually look ridiculous, and nobody can call you out on it.”

   “It’s still a no, Scott. I suck at fancy dress,” Clint said.

   Scott regarded them coolly. The four of them ate their lunch in silence, until Scott burst out.

   “Thor could totally go as Hercules.”

   Clint face palmed. Thor shook his head, disapprovingly.

   “What? No Hercules? Okay then, you can go as Superman.”

   “I don’t look anything like Superman.”

   “Well, true,” admitted Scott. “But you have the physique for it.”

   “No.”

   Scott pointed at Clint. “You can go as Robin Hood,” he pointed at Natasha. “And you can go as Merida.”

   “Nice. Real nice,” Clint grumbled. “And what is your own fantastic idea?”

   Scott took a bite of his sandwich. “Easy. Harry Potter.”

   Clint threw his head back. “Do you realise how nerdy you just sounded?”

   Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk about nerdy, Hawkeye. You wanted to go as Robin Hood last year.”

   “Yeah, well that’s different. That was only to your house. Not in front of the entire school year.”

   “Told you I’m great at picking costumes,” Scott said offhandedly.

   “Okay, one. You never said that,” Clint clarified. “And two, it’s great that you can read minds, but get this. I’m not going to any dumb Halloween party. Especially with our crappy school year, and those annoying fifth years. No offence, Thor.”

   Thor shrugged his shoulders.

   “We don’t do parties. Ever.” Clint said. He looked to Natasha for confirmation, who only looked back at him.

   “My cousin actually has a Merida costume,” she pondered. Clint frowned.

   “No.”

   Scott smiled smugly at him. Natasha almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous expression on Clint’s face. Whatever it was, he really didn’t want to go to this.

   “I’ll select my own costume, thank you,” Thor said. “And none of you will know what or who.”

   “Fair enough.” Scott shrugged his shoulders. “So, Robin Hood and Merida?”

   “Nope,” Clint said. “I’m picking something else.”

   “A tree?” Natasha guessed, a grin on her face.

   “A bird’s nest actually. Good guess.”

   Scott eyed the two of them, but didn’t say anything further. The four of them continued eating their lunch with occasional conversation. Natasha mused; Scott was an odd person. She had the sense that he was hiding a lot more of himself than he let on, but either way, it looked like they were all going to this Halloween party.

 

-

 

   “It seems that everything is all right, Bruce. Your grades are exceptional, as usual. None of your teachers have any specific worries or complaints; all you need to do is to contribute more in lessons, but other than that, you’re doing well,” Coulson finished.

   Bruce nodded, unsure of what else he could say. There didn’t seem to be any point in him going to these sessions anymore. Every single week, it was the exact same thing. About talking more, keeping up his grades, and whatnot. He’d been confined to these for about a year now, and he really didn’t see the point.

   “Are you sure that everything is all right? You don’t have any worries or issues that you’d like to talk about?”

   None that Coulson, or the school for that matter, could solve.

   And what good did talking about it have anyway?

   Bruce shook his head. Coulson tried to stare him down, but Bruce didn’t budge. He didn’t have anything to say.

   “Very well.” Coulson clapped his hands together. “Well, you can go back to your lesson, Bruce. Or, if you want to go home, you can do that, too. Don’t be afraid to take a mental health day if you need to.” Bruce had to stop himself from sighing at that. He’d do anything to avoid being at home. “And just know that if you need to talk, my door is always open.”

   “Thanks,” was all that Bruce could bring himself to say, half-heartedly, as if Coulson simply loaned him a pencil.

   “You’re very welcome.” Bruce got up to leave. He opened the door in too much of a rush, trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible, but instead, bumped directly into someone else.

   Bruce toppled backwards, rubbing his forehead. It was as if he’d walked head first into a brick wall, but only found Steve in front of him, looking perplexed.

   “Oh, oh. Sorry about that,” he said, apologetically. “Didn’t mean to, uh-”

   “Sorry,” Bruce said. He was used to apologising for everything; it was like a forced habit. “I was in the way.”

   Steve frowned. “No, you weren’t. Don’t worry about it.”

   Bruce nodded, wanting the conversation to end. Small talk really wasn’t his thing.

   He continued walking back to his lesson; physics. He hated walking into lessons late. It was mainly the looks of the other students that irked him.

   Making his way up the stairs, Bruce paused. It had only occurred to him that Steve hadn’t walked past him – he’d stayed outside of Coulson’s door.

   But why? Why would Steve have a session with Coulson? As far as Bruce was aware, Steve was everything that he wasn’t. A perfect student, with great grades, great friends, head boy and everything.

   And yet, Bruce couldn’t find himself forgetting Steve. Bruce had barely ever spoken to him; occasionally in their early school days, but that was all. Maybe he didn’t know Steve as well as he thought.

   Maybe nobody did.

 

-

 

   “Don’t forget to hand in those essays on enterprise and entrepreneurship by next lesson.” Coulson concluded the lesson. “Have a good day, everyone.”

   “Next lesson is first lesson tomorrow,” T’Challa mumbled to Pepper.

   “Next day homework should be illegal,” Pepper concurred. The two began to pack up their items and head home. Monday was by far the worst day on her timetable; she had all of her lessons with only one free period in the morning, and that barely counted, because she spent all of her free periods these days catching up on all of her lost EPICT work.

   Though she didn’t want to admit it, she was finding it significantly slower to complete without Maria present to mutter her opinions, and what she did. Pepper had to reluctantly agree that it was on the smarter side to take advice from someone who got 90% on their assessment.

   It was frustrating, because Maria didn’t even explain. One week, everything was supposedly normal, and the next, she couldn’t help at all. It was not that Pepper found her particularly pleasant to work with, but she needed to get this work done as soon as possible. She’d prioritised it above everything else – she hadn’t even begun her university application yet.

   With her bag over her shoulder, Pepper and T’Challa began to walk out of the lesson.

    Pepper nudged him. “What do you want for your birthday?”

   T’Challa shook his head. “You’re thinking too early. It’s not until the end of next month.”

   “But I need to start planning now,” Pepper insisted. “It’s a big birthday, too.”

   “There’s nothing special about turning nineteen,” T’Challa said. Pepper remembered that T’Challa was a year older than she was; due to complications back in Wakanda, he didn’t complete a majority of his exams in fifth year. Instead, he had to wait until the next year to sit them, and then continue education as normal.

   “Well, you’re one year closer to being twenty.”

   T’Challa made a face. “Please don’t remind me.”

   The two walked out of school, heading towards their regular car to be driven home. Pepper wanted nothing more than to go home and have a good lie down before she had to get this essay done for tomorrow.

   She halted when she saw Maria just ahead of them, walking head high, out of the school gate.

   Pepper pursed her lips, telling T’Challa that she’d be right back.

   “Maria,” she called. Maria came to a stop, undoubtedly recognising Pepper’s voice. She turned around, a neutral expression on her face. They stared each other down for a while; Pepper didn’t know why. She was the one who called her, she was the one who should say something first.

   “Are you…” Why was she finding it difficult to speak all of a sudden? She couldn’t word what she wanted to say, exactly. “EPICT work? Are you helping this week or not?”

   Maria’s expression didn’t change, but Pepper could tell that she was thinking. Thinking of a further excuse, most likely.

   She shook her head, “Not this week, sadly.”

   Pepper folded her arms. “Why?”

   “Why?” Maria repeated, the same, challenging smile appearing on her face.

   “You didn’t tell me last time.”

   “I know I didn’t,” Maria said. The two of them continued staring each other down, daring each other to speak first. Pepper gave in.

   “What about the week after that?”

   Maria raised an eyebrow. “It depends on how this week goes.”

   “Why does it depend?”

   Maria’s gaze faltered for a moment, as if considering something.

   “I’m just sorting out my university application,” she said. Pepper blinked.

   “You’ve already done it?”

   “Yes.”

   “Sent it off?”

   “Yes.”

   Pepper paused. “And you got an offer?”

   Maria let out a breath. “Three.” Pepper was almost speechless. Here Maria was, having sorted out all of her university applications, already receiving offers, and Pepper hadn’t even considered which universities she wanted to go to, yet.

   “Oh,” was all that Pepper could bring herself to say, and she felt like an idiot.

   “I’m just organising when I can go to my interviews. That’s why everything is indefinite at the moment,” she began to walk away, as if everything had been perfectly explained. Which it kind of had. Pepper still stood there, in awe, for reasons she couldn’t explain.

   “One’s in London,” Maria continued.

   “London?”

   Maria nodded again, and Pepper could guarantee that Maria smiled. Not one of her challenging ones, but a genuine, beaming smile. It was strange, yet pleasant to see.

   And Pepper wanted to kick herself for that.


End file.
